


Drawn to The Rhythm

by lemotmo



Category: Without a Trace
Genre: Angst, Cheating, Coming Out, Dance teacher Danny Taylor, Dancing, Drama, FBI agent Samantha Spade, First Time, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Librarian Martin Fitzgerald, M/M, Without a Trace AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-20
Updated: 2012-12-20
Packaged: 2017-11-21 17:29:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 31,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/600318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lemotmo/pseuds/lemotmo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <b>Martin is a librarian and he's engaged to FBI agent Sam. He isn't very happy with his life. All of that changes when Sam makes him take Latin dance classes for their wedding and he meets Danny Taylor, one of Sam's co-workers, who volunteers as a dance teacher.</b>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm in the process of transferring my best fics from Livejournal to this Ao3 account. As I read the stories again, I can clearly see the way my writing-style has changed (for the better) over the years. Some of these stories could use some re-editing. However, I have decided to leave the fics as they are. Each story clearly reflects the way I looked upon the world at the moment of writing. I kinda like that.
> 
>  **This story is a repost from a fic written from July 2005 to February 2006**.

_‘Dancing is a vertical expression of a horizontal desire.' - George Bernard Shaw_

“One, two, three … business section. One, two, three, four, five … hmmm … science.”

Martin Fitzgerald, the most conscientious librarian at the ‘Science, Industry and Business section’ at the NY Public Library, is working late again. For the third day in a row now, he’s the last one still there, surrounded by nothing but books and the faint greenish light the reading lights provide.

Hunched over his desk, he’s in the middle of cataloguing a new load of books that were brought in late in the afternoon. His back is killing him, but that’s okay. Eight years ago, during his first work week, he already accepted that a hernia would be a permanent part of his future someday.

“It’s always better to accept things up front instead of fighting them, because that will get you nowhere.” His father told him a long time ago. It was his first lesson in how to be a good Fitzgerald. Sadly enough, it was a subject Martin had down to an art these days. 

Taking a moment to stretch his weary limbs, a melancholy sigh escapes him when he envisions the cold, empty apartment that is waiting for him tonight. He’s never really liked the place, but the rent is doable and he has to live somewhere. And besides, when he first laid eyes upon it about 6 years ago, he didn’t really have a choice. It was that or a cardboard box at Grand Central.

He knows exactly what’s in store for him, because it’ll be just like every other night. He’ll come home, eat dinner, call Samantha, watch the news, read in bed until about midnight and then he’ll go to sleep. And although he’s a fairly calm, solitary guy, he’s almost sure that life has to be more than just a routine of getting out of bed each day, eating, working and going to bed again.

He remembers when he was in college. He had all these dreams and goals. It was the first time in his life that he was away from home and the freedom he discovered was intoxicating. He could go and do as he pleased and for the first few weeks he often stayed outside all night long, just gazing at the stars, or standing in the rain. And if anyone ever questioned him about his peculiar behaviour, they always got the same answer:

“Because I can.”

Throughout those years he built up this idea that he was going to single-handedly make a difference and he had solidly believed in it.

As he looks around him now, he sees the darkened library and never in a million years did he expect to be trapped in this cycle that seems to reset to its point of origin every 24 hours. These days, when he studies his reflection in the mirror, all he sees is a 31-year old man who looks worn out. A man whose eyes reflect hopelessness and a quiet acceptance of what his life has become.

And, not for the first time, he wonders when he made the transition from being a bright young man harbouring a special talent for organisation and business, with a great future ahead of him, to a loner, who –according to his family- wasted his college degree by becoming a librarian, and now lives between stuffy books with absolutely no future to speak of.

Oh, he’s not an idiot. He fully realises he got himself into this predicament and that he alone has the power to get himself out again. There are these moments when feelings of something he can’t quite place just flare up, out of nowhere. Ideas that have always lurked somewhere in the back of his mind, suddenly jump out to the forefront and demand his full attention and it’s all he can do to keep from jumping up, quitting his job and running out to look for - something else. Something new. Something exciting. That one piece of the puzzle that will complete him.

But then, every single time, the voice of common sense –sounding suspiciously like his father- kicks in, and he comes down from his cloud, the full comprehension of all the possible ramifications hitting him like a ton of bricks.

He can’t count the number of times he’s come so very close to discovering and unveiling some of the mysteries of his own mind - before doing the sensible thing and slamming that door closed. He’s always left with nothing but the faint memory of something that promised to be so good, but remained illusive and untouchable.

As it turns out, giving in to fear and not following your heart is treacherously easy. And that’s why he’s sitting in a library at a quarter to nine, contemplating his little world and how lonely it feels. Especially with no one to go home too. Not even his girlfriend. Well, fiancée now. Samantha. For some reason they still have separate apartments. Something about wanting to keep her privacy and she can’t have that with Martin constantly lurking around. And he wonders about that.

They’re going to be married soon and they still haven’t had the big discussion about where they’re going to live. Is she thinking of keeping their separate homes, even after the marriage? Just thinking about raising the subject of moving in with her, the first signs of a migraine immediately start manifesting themselves. But, he realises there is no escape. It will have to come up sooner or later, ‘cause the big day is approaching fast.

Lately, a little voice within Martin has started whispering in his ear that maybe all these doubts and second thoughts he’s been having are a sign that he and Sam just aren’t supposed to be. That he has to wait for something bigger and better to come along. Then again, he could wait his entire life without that happening and he isn’t exactly keen on the idea of being alone for the rest of his breathing days.

And there’s no denying that Samantha is something else. After all this time, she’s as big an enigma as she has ever been. When they met in the library, now three years ago, he instantly liked her. She was there on official FBI-business, searching for a missing girl that had last been seen in the Public Library. They shook hands and it wasn’t the big bang or some magnetic force pulling them together like you read in all those great novels, but it felt genuine and they discovered they both had an honest interest in each other’s lives. So, they made a date, talked a lot and became friends. From there things progressed.

After a while they just kind of decided to give it a try and stopped going out with other people. No grand declarations of love had been made, just a silent agreement that this had the potential of becoming something more, something solid. And Martin had never felt that before. Not that he had dated much before Sam. With his work, he had just never found the time and besides, it’s not exactly like women were lining up to go out with him. A clumsy and _–in their eyes-_ unworldly librarian. No, he was very lucky that tough, beautiful, blonde Sam had come along when she did.

It’s just … sometimes the lack of passion in their life together disturbs him. Whenever they go out, they do very ordinary _–almost boring-_ things, like going to a movie or having some drinks. Then they go home, have sex and fall asleep on their own, separate sides of the bed. It’s not that the sex is bad or anything, but afterwards there’s no cuddling, meaningless touching or even whispering stupid compliments. And he can’t blame the lack of those little things entirely on Sam.

Martin knows that he’s an emotional wasteland when it comes to love. He’s never known that easy-going simple affection that so many people share. From his earliest memories up until today no one has ever told him that they loved him and he can’t help thinking that it would be nice to hear it once in a while. To know that there’s this other person in the world that he belongs to. This person who, just like him, occupies only a tiny fraction of space, and who belongs solely to him. 

Okay, and maybe its time to cut back on the romance novels. Time to put some thrillers and horror in his daily reading schedule, ‘cause he’s starting to get all poetic and lyrical about his feelings. And it’s never a good thing to mix a Fitzgerald with a healthy dose of self pity. It can quickly reach dangerous levels and the last thing he needs right now is a depression right before the wedding. His father –and probably Sam too- would kill him. Not that he really cares.

Finally shaking himself out of his internal reverie, he realises that his eyelids are drooping and that he feels damn tired.

“Time to go, Martin,” his voice echoes through the empty building, “Tomorrow is another day.”

Slowly, he stands up, in a failing attempt to not antagonize his aching back any further. After stretching one last time, feeling and hearing his vertebrae pop with every movement he makes, he gathers all the files and neatly stacks them in the middle of the desk, while making a mental inventory of the work he has finished and the work that still needs to be done. Quickly, he swallows what is left of his already cold coffee, checks if all the lights are out, turns off the computer and wraps his long wool scarf around his neck, followed by putting on a warm black overcoat, to protect his body from the cold outside.

Before stepping outside, he says goodbye to the night watcher and then sets off into the night. Since he only lives one block away from work, he never drives here. Traffic is hell in this part of town and finding a parking space is even worse, so he’s used to walking.

His face deeply huddled into his scarf, he swiftly makes his way home. It’s a quiet night out tonight. Understandable, since most people are probably already lying in their warm beds, thinking about all those crazy people that are still outside, battling the freezing wind. The stars are bright and the edge of the moon is so sharply defined that it’s almost as if someone up there has taken a moon-shaped stamp and made an impression on the sky. And suddenly he finds it hard to move his feet as a sense of complete loneliness washes over him. But what shakes him even more is the fact that he feels tears welling up in his eyes and he almost cries. Almost … but his father has trained him well—

“A Fitzgerald never cries … so shut up Marty, before I smack it out of you!” 

He’s startled by the bone-deep realisation that in all his life, he’s never been happy. And now? Now, he’ll marry Sam and try to keep up the routine of getting out of bed every morning and force himself to breathe in and out. Is that happiness? He doesn’t think so, but that is what’s in his future and what a damn bleak one it’s turning out to be.

Oh, yeah. He definitely needs to lay off the romance novels.

When he finally arrives at his building he quickly enters to escape the freezing cold. Coming up, he finds his apartment barren and empty, just as he had remembered. Boxes with junk are still standing against the wall. Silent witnesses to the standstill his life has become. It really is remarkable, He’s been living there for six years and still hasn’t bothered to unpack all of his stuff. The stillness of this place he reluctantly calls ‘home’ overwhelms him and he’s overcome with an urge to call Sam, just to hear someone’s voice before the evening turns into night. 

After turning up the central heating, he makes his way over to the kitchen and grabs the phone in mid-step. And while opening and peering into the fridge, he calls Sam’s cell phone number.

“Spade,” a strong female voice booms through the receiver after only two beep tones.

“Hey Sam.” A quiet greeting.

“Oh, hey, Marty,” she replies.

That earns her a silent groan from Martin. He hates it when she calls him by her self-appointed nickname. It reminds him too much of his father and his condescending way of calling him ‘Marty’. It never fails to make him feel about 10 inches smaller than he is. Strangely enough, he’s never told her that, so she happily keeps on using what she thinks is an endearment.

“Why are you calling?” she asks, sounding surprised.

“I always call,” he says. And that’s true. He always calls. Not once, in the three years that they’ve known each other has she picked up the phone and called him. It feels like it’s always up to him to take the initiative. Sometimes he wonders why he even bothers anymore, almost convinced that if he stopped calling her, she’d probably just forget he even existed. And wouldn’t that be a great continuation of his life’s story.

“Hmmm, listen Martin, now that I’ve got you on the phone. You have to stop working early tomorrow,” she says.

“Why?” Martin asks, rubbing his eyebrows with his thumb in frustration, already deciding that he won’t, because there’s a massive batch of books that needs to be sorted and placed in the right section of the library. And why did he decide to call her again?

“Well, I’ve been thinking … the marriage is within six months and I just thought we should do something together. Just to practice ‘feeling’ like a married couple, you know?”

No, he doesn’t know. What the hell are they doing getting married when they don’t even know how to behave like a couple? But, of course, that’s not what comes out once he decides to open his mouth.

“What did you have in mind?” he asks.

“Well, I signed us up for a dance class,” she says.

Maybe he heard it wrong. Maybe she hasn’t said ‘dance class’, but something else that sounded like it, like ‘prance class’ -not that that made any sense- but still--

“What?” he asks, once he can bring his vocal chords to co-operate again.

“Dance class, Marty. Well, Latin dance to be exact. A colleague of mine, Danny, he’s of Cuban descent and he volunteers over at the East Side community centre. He helps them out in his spare time and, every two days, he also teaches a Latin dance class there. It’s nothing fancy, he just teaches you to move to the rhythm of the music. I know Danny and this is right up his alley. Jack and his wife … oh, you remember Jack Malone, don’t you? My boss? The good-looking one with the black suit.”

Oh, he remembers Jack Malone all right and not because he looks good. How could he forget the way the man was drooling all over Sam at the FBI’s last New Year’s Party. He had felt so sorry for the guy’s wife, who was standing there, alone and forgotten. At the time he hadn’t questioned the fact that, apparently, he was more concerned about some stranger’s wife feeling unhappy than his own fiancée being ogled by said stranger.

“Hmm,” he grunts as an acknowledgement.

“Yes, well, they used to go to Danny’s classes and they say it was a fun thing to do together and it really helped them reconnect when they were having their … ma-marriage problems.” She hesitates. “And, besides that, it also might be a good way of relaxing after a long work day. So, what do you say?” she asks, voice once again filled with confidence.

Okay, how did he miss this? Just like that, in the blink of an eye, they’ve gone from happy _‘about to get married’_ couple to unhappy _‘not able to connect’_ would-be strangers with serious relationship problems.

“No,” he replies.

“Martin,” she whines, “When have I ever asked you for anything you didn’t want to do?”

And Martin can’t help but snort out loud.

“Well, there’s the time when you just had to go to that expressionist play about the people who pretended to be fish,” he spits out, ”Oh, and then there was the ‘largest frying pan in the world’ incident we will not ever talk about again. And wasn’t there a cute little cat museum over in the Bronx that you just had to see?”

“Oh, all right, so I did drag you to those places. But, in my defence, I had no way of knowing that play was going to be two hours of three naked men, running around on a stage, yelling, ‘I am a fish, deal with it!’”

Another grunt.

“And the frying pan incident wasn’t entirely my fault, was it? I had no idea that thing would be so unstable and besides, you should never have stood so close to it, “she huffs, “But Martin, this is different. This could be good for us. Lately we’ve hardly seen each other--”

Whose fault is that?

And as soon as the question crosses his mind, he is hit by a deep-rooted feeling of self-loathing, because he knows it’s not fair to solely blame Sam for this, when he’s just as guilty as her.

“--This could be a way to reconnect before the wedding, you know?” she continues, “Please?”

Martin can’t recall the times he has ever said _no_ to Sam, probably because those times are non-existent. It’s unnerving that she knows all the right buttons to push and has no qualms about using them vigorously. But, this time, he’s going to stand his ground. There’s no way he is taking dance classes.

“Fine,” he sighs, dragging his hand through his hair.

Damn.

“I’ll go to that dance class with you. But, you know I can’t make one good solid dance move even if my life depends on it,” he warns her.

“Oh, thank you,” Sam replies, happily ignoring his last remark, ”Listen, I’ve got to go, Viv is waiting for me. We’re in the middle of tying up the loose ends of a case. Uhm, I’ll come by the library tomorrow evening around half past seven, ‘cause the class starts at eight. You’re the best, Marty. Trust me, you won’t regret it.”

He already does.

“Okay, bye. I lo--” he starts, only to be met by the dialling tone.

After another two seconds of stupidly staring at the phone he realises that he is still standing in front of the opened fridge, kitchen bathed in the faint light it provides. A quick glance at the clock tells him it’s already eleven o’clock. He doesn’t feel very hungry anymore and suddenly all he can think about is settling his weary head on his soft pillow and letting pleasant dreams carry him away from reality for a while.

Heaving a deep sigh, he closes the fridge and makes his way over to the bedroom. After taking a quick shower, he brushes his teeth and slides naked between the cool sheets. He feels in a daring mood tonight, so no pyjamas. And a humourless grin settles on his lips at the same time as a sarcastic, derogative thought flitters through his mind--

‘Isn’t it great that apparently, all it takes is sleeping in the nude to make me feel like I’m living on the edge.’

So, he can make it official now: he has no life. Resigned to his fate, he closes his eyes and thinks back to the strained conversation with Sam.

“Dancing classes … Latin dancing classes. Ah, what have I got myself into now?” he murmurs.

But, somehow he just lacks the energy to freak out over a frigging dance class. Plenty of time to stress out in the morning and before he knows it, his breathing evens out and he has slid in a deep dreamless sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

“Okay, ‘The morality of trade’ … hmm … ‘Business ethics-section’. That should probably go right here, next to--”

Martin is hovering dangerously over one of the top shelves in the library. Having only one foot on the highest step of the ladder and the other on one of the lower shelves, he’s in the middle of a high-wire act to balance his weight between both. Risky, but it’s the only way to get that pesky book in its right place and he won’t settle for less. He’s a very stubborn librarian. And then suddenly a voice echoes through the otherwise silent library.

“Marty! Martin!!!”

And down he goes, with a crash loud enough to startle everyone else in the building.

“Marty?!! Are you okay?”

Opening his eyes, he looks straight in Sam’s concerned eyes.

“Does it look like I’m okay?” he snaps.

“Well, you don’t have to be like that. It wasn’t me who made you fall,” she replies.

“No, I’m sure it’s perfectly acceptable to scream out loud in a library,” he bites back. Groaning, he hoists himself up from the floor, quickly cataloguing if all his limbs are still present and functioning properly. And he’s lucky, no permanent damage seems to be done, although he can already feel that his left side is going to be somewhat bruised. All in all, the biggest injury is to his pride.

“I’m fine now. Thank you for helping me up,” he spits out, once he’s standing face to face with her.

“You’re okay,” Sam says, ignoring his last remark.

“Apparently so,” he agrees, while putting his hand on his side to emphasize that he really isn’t.

“Good, then we can go.”

“Go where?” Martin asks, while straightening out his clothes.

“Martin, you know damn well what I’m talking about. I know you, this is you getting all defensive, but don’t even think about backing out of these dance classes. You’re coming with me,” Sam says, wagging her finger in front of his face as if he was a disobedient five-year old.

“Hey.” Martin puts up his hands in a defensive posture. “Who said anything about backing out? I’m not backing out. I just forgot for a moment, that’s all.”

“Forgot about it? Is that how much I mean to you? I bet Jack never forgot when he and his wife took these classes.”

“Yeah? I bet he’d take you in an instant,” Martin murmurs.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

Damn that woman and her flawless eardrums.

“Nothing, just that … if he’s so perfect. Why don’t you ask him then?” Martin snarls back.

“Ha-ha, very funny,” she says, pasting on a fake smile, “Tell, me … where did you learn to be so funny? Fitzgerald school of lame jokes?”

Inhaling deeply, Martin tries to calm down, ‘cause this argument is getting them nowhere.

“Listen, I’m sorry, okay? Let’s just go already.”

“Fine,” she answers before turning around and adding, “I’ll wait outside.”

“Fine,” he replies and not for the first time he asks himself just what the hell he is thinking marrying this woman. He already knows that the drive over to the community centre will be filled with awkward silences and unspoken frustrations.

~*~

When, after a 20 minute drive, Sam finally parks the car in front of a shabby looking building, Martin exhales deeply. He had been right. When Sam is angry she is downright hostile and for the 20 minute drive over, she was like the ice queen. Now, stepping out of the car, he sees that her features have somewhat relaxed and figures this is a good time to speak again.

“This is it?”

“Yes.”

He silently studies the old, stone building, covered with graffiti.

“Doesn’t look all that promising to me,” he mumbles, while tracing one of the painted-on words on the door with his finger.

“Yes, well, I’m sure it’ll look better once we get inside.”

Before he can make another move, Sam’s hand closes over his shoulder. Curiously he turns around to see what she wants.

“Listen,” she begins, “I’m sorry for earlier. I had no right to yell at you like that. It’s just that it’s been a really hard day. There’s this case. It’s a little boy, and it got to me. Sometimes, I--,” she trails off.

“It’s okay,” he replies, gently covering her hand that’s still on his shoulder, “I didn’t exactly make it easy on you. I’m sorry too.”

And these are the moments when the connection, that was so natural in the beginning of their relationship, reappears. Giving her a quick peck on the lips, Martin remembers all the reasons he proposed to her, and this was one of them. This gentle understanding, their deep friendship and the simple forgiveness. If only moments like these were enough to last throughout a lifetime, but they’re not. He knows that, soon, they’ll forget about this little moment outside the community centre and they’ll be back to the endless bitching, arguing and fighting. And not a second later, Sam speaks and the connection is broken.

“Now, let’s go. We only have 5 minutes left before the beginning of the lesson,” she says and lets go of his shoulder, quickly turning and opening the door. Stepping inside proves the opposite of Sam’s earlier statement. If the building had looked old and worn on the outside, it looks like it is about to collapse on the inside.

“I wonder who’d be stupid enough to want to spend time here?” Martin wonders.

“Well, Danny says that this is a relatively poor, but very social neighbourhood. These people have very little to live for and this is their home-base. Here, they come together and forget about their daily struggle for a while. I’m sure it’s a fun place to be,” Sam replies, forced to admit that Martin’s first assessment about the centre was right.

There are some kids playing tag in the main entrance hall, while their mothers are chatting a bit further down the main corridor. A dingy looking arrow that reads ‘LATIN DANCE’ is attached to the left wall and is pointing up the staircase. They stop right in front of it, listening to the faint salsa music that originates from somewhere upstairs and is slowly drifting towards them.

“Well, we’re here now, we signed up and made a donation to the centre, so why not check it out?” Sam suggests.

“Fine,” Martin says, “Ladies first.”

“Well, nice to know I’m marrying a man who knows how to be gallant,” Sam quips.

“Hey,” Martin says, showing the palms of his hand in a universal sign of defence, “I never claimed to be a gentleman. You just chose to think of me as one.” A wicked grin settles on his lips.

That earns him a matching grin from Sam, before she tentatively starts climbing the old wooden stairs, closely followed by Martin. And with each step they take, the music gets louder and clearer and suddenly a voice is heard above the music:

“Come on people! This is salsaaaa! One of the most sensual and passionate dances in the world. What you need to learn first, is to shake those hips like you’ve never shaken them before.”

Sneaking a quick peak at Sam, Martin sees a small smile flitter across her face before she mutters:

“Well, seems like Danny is having a good time.”

Once upstairs, they quickly discover that the first floor doesn’t look a lot better than the ground-floor did. Another cut-out arrow, telling them to follow the left corridor all the way to the end. As they’re approaching the door Martin suddenly feels like turning around and running out, preferably kicking and screaming. This is not for him. Passion and shaking hips? He has neither. He’s just a librarian with a bad back and it won’t take very long for whoever is behind that door to find out and kick him out again. But, of course, he wasn’t counting on Sam. Before he has his chance to escape, her hand tightens around his arm in a surprisingly strong grip. Almost as if she was anticipating his escape. Damn her and her FBI-training.

She pulls him along until they reach a door that has a little white card taped on it. A card that seems to be pulsing up and down to the beat of the music. It says:

_‘Next dance class – 8pm’_

And underneath that, in messy bold, black letters:

MY CLASSROOM = MY RULES

Sam’s grinning again and murmurs, “Typical.”

Somehow Martin doesn’t find that a very reassuring reaction to a statement like that. Perhaps, if he thinks quickly, he can still find a way to get out of this. A quick glance at his watch tells him he has, give or take, two minutes to come up with something really good.

“Sam, maybe this isn’t--” he starts.

But, it’s too late. In the middle of Martin’s contemplation whether or not to fake a sprained ankle, Sam opens the door and steps inside, forcefully dragging him along with her.

And then there is nothing but light and loud salsa-music and the smell of sweat and people dancing, pulling, swaying and shaking. About 25 people are already there, moving on the music and giving away their own impression of salsa. Apparently class has started early today.

“Come on! Yes, that’s it! You shake those hips, Eleanor! Bruce, come on man … shake that thing!”

And the voice they heard earlier is now attached to a man. A solitary figure standing with his back towards them, dressed in black sweats and a white t-shirt. He’s standing in the middle of the hall, moving and swaying like Martin has never seen any man move before, shaking his hips sensually to the rhythm of the beat. And suddenly, Martin feels very warm all over and has difficulty breathing. He barely resists the urge to tear off his –now- uncomfortable suffocating coat and scarf. For a brief moment he wonders where that feeling comes from. And then that moment passes when the sweaty figure turns their way and a look of recognition passes over his face when he sees Sam.

“Danny!” Sam yells, just to be heard over the music.

“Sam!” Danny yells back and with a natural grace he makes his way over to her and gives her a quick hug, before turning all of his attention to Martin, dark eyes studying him intently.

“Cold outside, huh?” he asks, voice all innocent, but sporting a huge shit-eating grin.

And now Martin is annoyed. Is this guy mocking his scarf and coat? Nobody is allowed to do that. Both have served him well over the last couple of years and he has yet to find an adequate replacement. Just when he opens his mouth to deliver a stinging reply, Sam takes over the conversation.

“Danny, this is my fiancée, Martin Fitzgerald,” she tells him before turning towards Martin, “Marty, meet Danny Taylor.”

“Ah, yes … the librarian,” Danny states, a tad condescendingly. And there is that grin again that Martin is quickly starting to hate.

“Yes,” Martin answers, narrowing his eyes and a tight smile gracing his lips, “and you are the FBI-agent who just loves shaking that ass. I’m sure that earns you a lot of respect from the thugs you book.”

After a strained moment of silence, with those dark eyes measuring him up carefully, Danny’s grin subsides a bit and morphs into a much more pleasant and friendly smile. An instant later, Martin feels the tension draining from his body and he relaxes again, knowing he just passed some kind of _Danny Taylor-test of approval_. And for some reason beyond his comprehension, he’s extremely glad he did.

“Nice to meet you, Marty,” Danny says, thrusting his hand out towards him. Martin tentatively reaches out and puts his hand against Danny’s sweaty palm before closing his fingers around it, shaking firmly, and for the life of him, he can’t stop what comes out next.

“Martin,” he says. And where did that come from?

“Excuse me?” Danny asks, eyes widening in confusion.

“Call me Martin. I never liked Marty. My father used to call me that and … just, no good memories.”

“Trust me, I totally understand,” Danny says, letting go of his hand, leaving him feeling strangely bereft. Martin hasn’t missed the surprised look Sam shot in his direction and he doesn’t blame her. Why did he share this kind of personal information with a stranger when he has never even mentioned it to his fiancée? And even more importantly, why does it bother him what this man calls him anyway? He doesn’t even know him. And this is all very confusing.

“Well then,” Sam suddenly speaks up, “now that we’re all acquainted, I’m just going to go over there and introduce myself to some of the other people. If you need me … _Martin_ —“

Oh, and there’s that angry glare, aimed straight at him. He’s going to be in so much trouble later.

“--I’ll be right over there,” she says, while nodding her head towards the other side of the room where people are still vigorously shaking to the music. And with one last look and small smile directed at Danny she takes off.

And then it’s just him and Danny. Danny, who is grinning like a lunatic again, which is –strangely enough- a very good look for him. Martin can’t help thinking, that in combination with the dark mischievous eyes, the crop of messy hair and the well-toned body, it is even an extremely good look for him. Not that that means anything. As a man, it’s totally harmless to admire another man as long as it’s just an honest and objective observation he’s making.

He knows that for sure, because he’s observed enough men, back in college and during his work in the library, in exactly the same objective way. And, for some reason, he feels like he’s burning up, which leads him to yank off his scarf and coat in two seconds tops. A brief look of surprise crosses Danny’s eyes, before it is replaced with amused glee.

“So, Martin,” he says, “Ready to shake that thing?” while giving a small demonstration with his hips, as if he wants to make sure Martin knows exactly what he’s talking about. And didn’t he just take off his coat and scarf? Then why is it still so very warm in here? He can almost feel the blood rushing to his face, knows that he’s blushing like crazy. Okay, time to pull himself together again.

“Listen, Mr Taylor, I don’t know if—” he begins.

“Danny.”

“Hmm?” Martin squeaks, eyebrows shooting up.

“Call me Danny.”

And he’s a Fitzgerald. He can look this innerving man straight in the eye, call him by his first name and tell him that he’s not going to participate in this class, without sounding all girlish. Right?

“Okay, Danny. Listen, I don’t think I’m cut out for this. This—“ he emphasizes, lifting his hand and slightly gesturing towards the rest of the dancehall, “really isn’t my scene.”

‘Doesn’t that man ever lose that infernal grin?’ Martin thinks, before Danny starts speaking again.

“Oh, come on Fitz. You don’t mind if I call you that, do you?”

“Actually, I do,” Martin shoots back.

But not nearly as much as when Sam calls me _Marty_ , he silently adds. And he knows there’s something fundamentally wrong with that. By all accounts, he should be bothered by the nickname Danny’s come up with, but for some reason he can’t bring himself to care and that’s just crazy, because he shot his fiancée down for calling him Marty and this is like ten times worse.

In his distraction he doesn’t notice how Danny steps closer and worms his way into Martin’s personal space until he focuses again and realises that now they’re only separated by a few inches. And Martin doesn’t like this. Danny is too close for him to feel comfortable and yet he finds himself mesmerised with the man’s lips as he starts speaking again.

“Listen, Fitz,” he says, totally ignoring Martin’s last remark, “How can you know that something is not for you, without even trying?” he asks, honest eyes staring right into his own.

“Trust me,” Martin says, after he remembers how to use his vocal chords, “I know.”

“Well, that may very well be true, but the fact that you know that you aren’t good at—“ Danny stops, lifts his hand and mimics the gesture Martin made, “—this, is just not enough to convince me that you really do know that you aren’t good at … it.” The little hand gesture again.

Martin is now in a full-blown staring contest with Danny and he doesn’t have time to mask the confusion that must be so obvious in his eyes. And apparently it is, because, as if on cue, Danny’s smirk becomes wider, as if he knows exactly what’s going on in Martin’s mind. And maybe he does.

“Martin, do you remember when you came in? There was a little white card, taped to the door.” Danny says with an innocent voice.

“Yeah, I do.”

“Okay, and what did the card say?” he asks, mischief dancing in his eyes.

“Uhm … _my classroom_ equals _my rules_ ,” Martin replies.

“Exactly, so--” he says, putting his hands flush on Martin’s hips, while leaning in even closer “--you see, the only thing to do right now is listen to the teacher. And the teacher tells you to stop making excuses and be a good boy. So, close your eyes, listen to the rhythm of the music and let it carry you away. Start shaking those hips!” He accentuates by applying pressure on Martin’s hips, forcing him to shake them awkwardly from side to side.

And all Martin can do is close his eyes as Danny’s voice washes over him, and breathe in Danny’s sweaty, yet strangely intoxicating scent. He feels the heat of Danny’s body seep through his shirt, and he must be on fire now. And this is ridiculous, because he’s engaged to a beautiful woman, with the emphasis on _woman_. He can’t be attracted to a man. What would his father say?

But, he doesn’t need to worry about that, because this is just him getting cold feet before the wedding. After all, there’s passionate salsa music playing in the background, the lighting is focused on making people feel comfortable and the man in front of him is gorgeous enough to even make the Pope turn his head. Nope, nothing to worry about. Nothing at all.

Swallowing deeply, he manages to regain some of his composure and slowly opens his eyes, only to find Danny staring straight at him. For a few seconds, they just stand there, watching, before Danny lets out a harsh breath. “Just give it a try and if you still don’t like it by the end of the lesson, you never have to come back again,” he says, before letting go of Martin, turning around and walking over to the other side of the room to check the progress of the other pupils. But not before spinning in Martin’s direction one last time and shooting him another one of those infernal smirks. And how is he supposed to say no to that?

Slightly perplexed by his own reaction towards Danny and still wondering what the hell just happened, Martin waves at Sam who is in the middle of enthusiastically giving away an Oscar-winning performance of a drunk goose. And while he’s waving, he’s struck by the thought that _–whatever this is-_ it’s going to complicate things, and what scares him even more is that he really doesn’t care if it does.


	3. Chapter 3

It’s midnight when Danny Taylor finally walks through the door of his apartment. He’s exhausted. Today has been tough, physically as well as emotionally. After locking the door, he makes his way over to the couch and heavily sinks down on it, not having the energy to do anything else. And to think that this morning he was still filled with all these plans and ideas.

Of course he should have known that there was a slim to none chance that he would get that loan, but to actually be looked straight in the face and be told that there was no way that he was getting it, still felt different. More real. And that had been it. For a short time he had entertained the idea of opening a new community centre and life had seemed more interesting. And now that dream had been ripped away from him.

A few days ago he had called the bank to make an appointment to discuss his plans. And Jack had agreed to let Danny go early today, but not before sending him one of his patented disapproving glares. Of course, this was the day that the Benjamin VanBuren case hit their desks and he had left the Bureau way too late to make the appointment on time. So, the bank manager’s first impression of him wasn’t a very good one. He had profusely apologised but it seemed as if he couldn’t do or say anything right after that.

Things just got worse from there on. He had used all the right arguments and conjured up all the right emotions, conveying his sincere grief, telling them that closing the East Side community centre would be a tragedy for the neighbourhood. Trying to make them see that these people had nothing and really needed that one meeting place where they could come together and, for a few hours, forget about their daily struggle. A true place of comfort.

He told them that opening a new centre would make sure that older people didn’t live the rest of their lives in loneliness and it would keep some of the teenagers of the streets. Streets that –he knows from experience- could consume those kid’s lives in a heartbeat. He even showed them plans of the new location. A beautiful old abandoned school building not so far from the current centre. But to no avail.

***

_“You see, Mr Taylor, you have to look at this from our point of view,” he said, “you have no collateral whatsoever, no experience and no one to back you up. Starting up a project like this is always very risky.”_

_“I know that and I’ve looked for partners who’d be interested in working with me, but I only found two companies who were interested. The rest doesn’t see any profit in opening a community centre,” Danny angrily replied._

_“Yes, Mr Taylor, you told me, but … well, let’s face facts here. Even if we were to give you the money, you are an FBI-agent with a very busy job, we can’t count on you to—“_

_“I already told you that I would quit my job!” Danny practically yelled, “Look, Mr Jones, I’ve written letters to the correct authorities and they’ve already agreed to subsidise part of the project, if I were to go through with it. Two companies are backing me up. What more do you want from me?”_

_“You say that you will quit your job. You say that now,” Mr Jones said, ignoring his last question, “But, if push comes to shove, are you really willing to take a major pay-cut like that?” the man asked._

_“For this? Yes, in a heartbeat,” Danny said, his voice giving away the conviction he felt inside._

_“Look, Mr Taylor. I admire your diligence and your courage to see this through. But, I have to tell you, that not this bank nor any other bank will give you money based on the facts you’ve given me today. We need to see more than some vague plans and ideas. We are not a charitable institution,” Jones said._

_“But--” Danny spluttered._

_“Mr Taylor, I’m sorry … but our answer is no.”_

_And that had been it. After that Danny had just got up and left. What was there left to say?_

***

Remembering the cold brush-off from earlier still makes Danny cringe. All he wanted to do was help these people out, but now he is at the end of all the possible solutions he came up with in the first place. When Martha Ramos, the heart and soul of the East Side centre, told him that the centre was closing down at the end of the year, because the health inspection had declared the building unfit to house people, he was shocked. The truth is that he needs that centre as much as everyone else in the neighbourhood. New York can be a very lonely city to live in. So very different from the place he grew up in, Hialeah.

If he closes his eyes, he can see his old neighbourhood. His brother Rafi, playing with him and the neighbours’ kids, out on the street. His mother cooking at the old stove in that tiny kitchen they had, complaining to dad. Yes, he even fondly reminisces about his father, yelling at Rafi that he was a waste of his time and telling Danny that he was good for nothing. Funny how being tossed from foster home to foster home could really make you appreciate your own family, no matter how dysfunctional it was.

And now he has no family left. The only thing that’s important in his life is his job. Ever since he was little, he wanted to do something important with his life. Grow up to be someone special, just to know what it feels like to be loved and respected. And now, here he is, an FBI-agent working for the Missing Persons Unit. Some would say that he had come a long way from his drunk street-roaming days, but he knows that he is still as close to the bottle as he used to be.

There are days when he wants that drink so badly that he can almost taste it. Days like today, when they had relentlessly been looking for 7-year Benjamin VanBuren, only to find him beaten up and half dead in some nameless alley. Someone had carelessly tossed him next to a dumpster, like a piece of human garbage. And it was all he could do to not freak out and hunt down the animal who had done such a horrible thing, only to shoot him through the head at point blank range.

Every time he comes across a case like this, which is way too often, it leaves him cold and uneasy in the aftermath. As if he should have done more to keep the victim from harm, even though it wasn’t possible at the time. It gnaws at his mind and over and over again he goes through the case in his head. What could he have done to get there sooner? Was there something he forgot? And every single time he comes to the conclusion that he did all he could do.

It’s in those moments that another piece of him gives up and accepts defeat and that is just not an option. When he started this job, he vowed to himself that he would never get used to the horror and the pain of what people can do to each other. But, lately, he finds himself breaking that vow more and more often. He realises that, sometimes, he gets too emotional and too involved in a case, but for him that’s the only way to cope with what he sees every day.

Now, he feels that the moment to stop has finally arrived, admittedly a lot sooner than he had ever imagined. Danny’s been on the job for seven years and it’s been enough. He doesn’t want to deal with the dark side of humanity anymore. He wants to focus on their better half and if he would only be able to set up that new community centre, his wish would be granted. It would be a new start for him, but now he doesn’t even get the chance to try.

Frowning deeply, he casts a longing look towards the vicinity of his bedroom. He’s tired, but reluctant to stand up and move towards his room, so he tosses off his shoes and just stretches out on the couch, staring at the ceiling.

“I should have become a librarian,” he muses out loud, “Less complicated.”

Although one with a better taste for fashion, he silently adds, thinking back to the dance class he taught earlier at the centre.

Teaching Latin dance is one of those things he loves doing and wouldn’t give up for anything. Unless he’s forced to give it up. When he’s teaching, he just forgets about every single problem. It’s just him, the music and the people.

Tonight’s class had started a bit early and nothing special had occurred until Sam walked in with her fiancé. Two days ago, she had told Danny that she had signed up for the class and that she was bringing her mystery guy. He had somewhat tried to prepare himself, but not in a million years did Danny expect to meet a guy like Martin. A smirk threatens to grow into a full-blown grin when he thinks back to the strange man, who for some reason, managed to make his crappy day a little bit better.

~*~

“Come on! Yes, that’s it! You shake those hips, Eleanor! Bruce, come on man … shake that thing!”

Danny is in the middle of egging on some of his more challenging students by demonstrating the correct hip movement, when he hears the door open. After he makes sure that everyone is following his lead, he turns around and is pleasantly surprised to see Sam.

“Danny!” she yells and Danny barely hears her over the music.

“Sam!”, he calls back and makes his way over to her, giving her a quick hug. It’s then that he notices the figure standing next to her, Sam’s hand tightly wrapped around _its_ arm. And _figure_ really is the only way to describe the _–he presumes-_ man, because whoever it is, he is wrapped up in the oldest, most hideous long black overcoat Danny has ever laid eyes upon. And if that isn’t bad enough, his face is half secluded by a humongous orange scarf.

The only thing visible throughout the layers of clothes, is a head full of short light brown hair and surprisingly clear blue eyes that are now watching him intently. Did he somehow miss the beginning of the next ice age? ‘Cause Danny could have sworn that, when he was outside earlier this evening, it was cold, but not Antarctica-cold. And he can’t help himself. This is just too good to let it pass by.

“Cold outside, huh?” he says, sending the guy one of his most unnerving smirks.

Oh, and now someone is pissed off. A glimmer of annoyance passes over the ice man’s eyes. And for a moment Danny thinks he’s going to get an angry reaction, but then Sam cuts in. Too bad.

“Danny, this is my fiancé, Martin Fitzgerald,” she tells him before turning towards the ice man, who now has a name, “Marty, meet Danny Taylor.”

And Danny notices that the man slightly winces when Sam calls him Marty. It’s almost invisible to the eye, but Danny has always had a keen eye for any kind of body movement and he has clearly spotted a wince.

The thought of Sam Spade and this strange guy being engaged still puzzles him beyond anything. It isn’t too often that he and Sam talk about personal stuff, but a while ago he accidentally discovered about Sam’s pending marriage. He was stunned to hear that she was engaged to a librarian she has known for three years. How did he not know about that? Three years was a long time to be together and not tell anyone about it. When he asked her, she reluctantly shrugged her shoulders and glanced at Jack’s office.

And, instantly he understood. It was no secret that there was once something more between Jack and Sam, but when Jack went back to his wife, about three and a half years ago, he broke Sam’s heart. It didn’t take long for Danny’s internal FBI-agent to draw up a time-line and come to the conclusion that, six months after that break up, Sam settled for something less than she wanted. And it pisses him off to watch such a great and vibrant woman as Sam give up on love and give in to something so not her, only because she can never have Jack. And a surge of irrational hatred towards Martin wells up inside of him, ‘cause he’s the one she’s stuck with. Some stuffy, boring librarian. 

“Ah, yes … the librarian,” he says, deliberately condescending, while shooting Martin a devilish smirk. And, by the way Martin narrows his eyes, he can tell the guy is starting to get fed up with him and his behaviour and Danny really couldn’t care less.

“Yes,” Martin replies, “and you are the FBI-agent who just loves shaking that ass. I’m sure that earns you a lot of respect from the thugs you book.” Touché. And somehow Danny is convinced that, underneath that monstrosity called a scarf, Martin is sporting a grin rivalling his own.

Grudgingly, he admits to himself that he’s impressed. Apparently, this guy is tougher then he seems, even though Danny hasn’t actually seen a lot of him. After a strained moment of silence, Danny gives up on his anger. He’s never been the kind of guy to bear a grudge against someone for a long time, especially someone he doesn’t even know.

This man deserves more than to be mocked by a complete stranger who accuses him of something he has no real control over. Apologetically, he shoots Martin one of his most charming and pleasant smiles, almost physically feeling the guy’s underlying tension disappear.

“Nice to meet you, Marty,” he proceeds, thrusting his hand out towards Martin. He patiently waits as the guy’s eyes measure him up carefully, almost as if he expects Danny to suddenly put him down again. But then, Martin tentatively reaches out and puts his hand against his own palm, that is still somewhat sweaty from before, and he closes his fingers around it, shaking firmly. The thought that he’s got a good, solid grip crosses Danny’s mind, right before Martin speaks again.

“Martin.” 

“Excuse me?” Danny asks confused.

“Call me Martin. I never liked Marty. My father used to call me that and … just, no good memories.”

Oh, and he knows about this. Fathers have a way of making you feel less than you are and it seems Martin here, knows exactly what that feels like.

“Trust me, I totally understand,” he replies, while letting go of Martin’s hand. And apparently Martin has said something wrong, because now Samantha is viciously staring at him as if he has single-handedly strangled her darling pet cat. Witnessing the silent back and forth repartee between the couple, Danny realises Martin is in trouble and he almost feels sorry for him. Almost … for this is too much fun to watch. He knows from personal experience you do not want to be on Sam’s bad side, ever. She can be very frightening when she’s angry. Danny has witnessed a lot of criminals cringe when Sam decided that she had had it with them.

“Well then,” Sam suddenly speaks up, “now that we’re all acquainted, I’m just going to go over there and introduce myself to some of the other people. If you need me … _Martin_ —“

And if glares could kill, Martin would be a dead man by now.

“--I’ll be right over there,” she says, vaguely nodding her head towards the other side of the room. Not gracing Martin with another look, she smiles at Danny before taking off.

Now, it’s just him and Martin. Martin, who is still standing there, all wrapped up, like an early Christmas present. Martin who, in a flurry of motion and in the shortest time span Danny’s ever seen, gets rid off his coat and scarf. And—

Hey, what do you know, Danny muses, seems that our librarian actually has a face underneath that scarf and a nice one at that. Without the extra clothing Danny has to admit the guy is very easy on the eyes. Granted, he still has a problem with the brown plaid shirt. It might be a bit over the top, but Martin has that all-American boyish look going on, with a handsome face and a seemingly normal, well-proportioned body. So, Danny can live with the small idiosyncrasies.

And what the hell is he doing checking out Sam’s fiancé?

“So, Martin,” he says, wide grin plastered all over his face, ”Ready to shake that thing?” slightly shaking his hips, giving Martin a demonstration of the way it’s done.

And is he--? Oh, yeah, Martin’s blushing all right. And this is going to be fun.

“Listen, Mr Taylor, I don’t know if—“ Martin begins.

“Danny.”

“Hmm?” Martin practically squeaks.

If Danny had known that Martin squeaking would hold such an appeal to him, he would have tried it out earlier. And now the guy is expectantly staring at him, waiting for his answer.

“Call me Danny.”

For a moment, Martin just stares at him, a deep frown gracing his features, almost as if he is contemplating heavy matters of life and death in the middle of this dance hall. And Danny can’t help thinking that this guy is way too serious and needs to loosen up.

“Okay, Danny.” Martin says, “Listen, I don’t think I’m cut out for this. This—“ he emphasizes, lifting his hand in an almost insecure gesture, waving it slightly in the direction of the other students, “--really isn’t my scene.”

Seeing right through Martin’s attempt to back out of this class, Danny starts grinning again. Confident in his ability to make this man look at the bright side of life and to get him to participate in his class, ‘cause Martin looks like the kind of guy who is in serious need of some fun. Let the games begin.

“Oh, come on Fitz,” he says, pausing briefly to check Martin’s frustrated reaction to his new nickname, “You don’t mind if I call you that, do you?”

“Actually, I do,” Martin snaps.

His amusement growing by the second, Danny decides to push Martin some more, just to see if and when the man will cave. He takes a step closer, until he is securely embedded within Martin’s personal space, close enough to feel the heat radiating of the other man’s body. Close enough to smell the faint odour of old, stuffy books, which is an oddly appealing cologne on Martin. And focus, Taylor … focus.

“Listen, Fitz,” he resumes, as if he never even heard Martin’s last remark, “How can you know that something is not for you, without even trying?” he asks, staring right into Martin’s blue eyes, doing his best to let innocence seep through.

“Trust me,” Martin hoarsely answers, “I know.”

“Well, that may very well be true, but the fact that you know that you aren’t good at—“ Danny stops to emphasize the moment, before lifting his hand and making the same hand gesture Martin made, “—this, is just not enough to convince me that you really do know that you aren’t good at … it,” he ends, using the same gesture again.

And now Danny can read Martin’s confusion in his eyes, not able to hide a single thing with him standing so close. A triumphant smirk tugs at the corners of his lips. Time to turn it up another notch.

“Martin, do you remember when you came in? There was a little white card, taped to the door.” Danny says, innocently.

“Yeah, I do.”

“Okay, and what did the card say?” he asks, knowing very well that no one ever forgets about the statement on the card.

“Uhm … _my classroom_ equals _my rules_ ,” Martin says, innocent blue eyes still firmly locked with his. And suddenly, Danny is overwhelmed by a sense of nervousness for what he is about to do. He has no idea where it comes from and why he feels that way, but it’s almost enough to make him reconsider. Almost. ‘Cause when did Danny Taylor ever back out of a challenge? And, after thumping down the jitters, he goes in for the kill.

“Exactly, so--” Danny says, lifting his hands and firmly placing them flush on Martin’s hips, while leaning in even closer towards him “--you see, the only thing to do right now is listen to the teacher. And the teacher tells you to stop making excuses and be a good boy. So, close your eyes, listen to the rhythm of the music and let it carry you away. Start shaking those hips!” He applies gentle pressure on Martin’s bony hips, forcing the guy to shake them awkwardly from side to side.

And maybe he didn’t think this through, because now Martin’s body heat is seeping through his pants, creeping up Danny’s fingers, heating up his arms, leaving a trail of goose bumps in its wake. All Danny can do is watch how Martin’s eyes slide close and how he inhales deeply, as if he wants to take in everything that is distinctly Danny, which is preposterous, because this is a boring, very straight librarian engaged to Sam. Yes, Samantha, who is a good agent and great friend. Sam, who is _–for some unknown reason-_ in love with this man. And if he just keeps thinking like that, everything will be fine.

Fascinated, he watches how Martin’s Adam’s apple bobs up and down. How he opens his eyes, only to stare right back at Danny. And now the man looks like a lobster on crack. A shade of red Danny’s never seen on any person, not even in moments of intense passion. And he’s seen his share of men and women in a lot of passionate positions. He can’t stop the thought that this is what Martin must look like right before he comes, and somehow that thought makes him feel even warmer, in all the right places.

After what feels like an eternity of looking in those blue eyes, Danny let’s out a harsh breath before he says the only thing he can come up with. “Just give it a try and if you still don’t like it by the end of the lesson, you never have to come back again.” He lets go of Martin’s hips, turns around and hurries over to the other side of the room just to put as much space between him and Martin as possible. But he can’t stop himself from turning around one last time to shoot Martin a dazzling smile, because he is Danny Taylor and that’s just what he does.

Reaching the other side of the room, he gradually feels the tension ebbing away. He doesn’t understand his reaction towards Martin anymore than he understands why Sam is waggling around like a duck. But, he doesn’t care about any of it, because right now, he feels better than he has felt in a long time and he just knows that things can only get interesting from here onwards.

Not that he is going after Martin. No, definitely not. He’s Sam’s fiancé, and in his book that means _look, but don’t touch_. And besides, the man is the most tight-assed straight prick he’s ever met and even though Danny doesn’t hate him, he still dislikes him greatly. And maybe if he repeats that enough, he’ll even start believing it himself.

~*~

Sprawled all over the couch in the most inelegant pose, Danny is almost asleep now. A small grin caresses his face when he thinks about the way Martin had kind of hovered around the edges of the group for the rest of the evening, only to finally give in to a combination of peer pressure and Sam’s evil glares.

He fully participated in the last exercises and he even seemed to enjoy himself. Now, Danny finds himself looking forward to seeing Martin again during the next class, which is the day after tomorrow. And God help him, even more than that, he is looking forward to poking fun of the guy. Just to see him blush again.

And then he stops thinking all together when he glides away in a deep sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

There are few times in his life that Danny can recall being so utterly, totally afraid, as the moment when he saw Sam go down. When the shot rang through the deserted alley he was so certain that Ben Riker, the man they were pursuing, had shot her that his mind jumped to the terrible conclusion of losing one of their own.

So, when he reached her, crouched down and put his finger against her neck, clearly feeling a strong pulse, his legs suddenly turned into jelly and there was no way he was going to catch Riker after that.

Now, he’s sitting here, next to her hospital bed, staring at her pretty, unconscious face. Reliving the moment over and over again and still feeling queasy whenever he lets his mind wander in the direction of what could have been. The doctor had told him that she had broken her leg in three different places, which had caused her to fall down and hit her head on the pavement really hard.

Apparently, in her wild pursuit, she hadn’t seen the wooden crate, just lying there in the middle of the alley. Her foot had been caught in it and the rest is history. The crazy thing is that if she hadn’t tripped over that crate, she would have still been standing and that bullet would have hit her right between the eyes.

He is reminded of the strained phone call conversation with Martin. After calling Jack to tell him what had happened they had agreed to meet up in the hospital. There, the doctor had explained to them that he expected Sam to be in pain for a few days, but if everything went well she would recover completely. After that, Danny knew that he had to call Martin to tell him about Sam, but he wasn’t looking forward to it.

Hard to believe that only a day ago he felt giddy about talking to the man again. The conversation itself had been odd at the least. For a moment, Danny was convinced that Martin was happy to hear his voice before he broke the news. And then it was just a blur of frantic questions and him trying to calm the other man down. Martin hadn’t said goodbye, just that he was on his way. And speak of the devil.

“Excuse me, I’m looking for Samantha Spade’s room. Could you tell me where it is?”

Standing up from the uncomfortable hospital chair Danny walks over to the door and peers out. At the end of the hall, Martin is wildly gesticulating to the nurse and babbling ten miles a minute. And he can’t let this go on any longer.

“Martin!” he yells across the corridor and once again those amazing blue eyes are trained on him. And when exactly did he start thinking of Martin’s eyes as amazing? “Over here!”

Danny watches how Martin practically breaks into a run, trying to get to h-- Sam. And before he’s made a full stop he’s already asking about her.

“How is she?” he pants.

Raw emotion is radiating off Martin in pulses. The thought that Martin really loves Sam hits Danny hard, for a reason he doesn’t fully understand. And now Martin is staring at him, expecting an answer.

“She’s fine,” he says, “Still asleep and if all goes well, she’ll recover completely.”

And then a huge genuine smile settles on Martin’s lips. Relief clearly written all over his face. And before Danny knows what’s happening, Martin envelops him into a crushing hug. Martin is all around him, his smell penetrating his nostrils, hair tickling his cheeks and moist breath warming his shoulder. The feeling of total acceptance consumes Danny and for a moment he surrenders to Martin’s touch and hugs him back just as fiercely.

And just like that, the moment is gone. Danny feels how Martin tenses in his arms and pulls back from their connection. Blushing furiously, he lets go, turns and steps into Sam’s room. Too stunned to move an inch, Danny observes Martin approaching Sam’s bed, tenderly picking up her hand and squeezing it lightly, while brushing away some of the hair lying on her forehead and bending down to kiss her there.

And Danny shouldn’t be here. This is private and he feels like a voyeur, but he can’t seem to tear away his eyes from the tenderness in Martin’s hands and gestures. Who would have known, that there would lie so much affection and love behind that cool façade? And Danny can’t help wondering how satisfying it must be to be on the receiving end of all that affection. He casts one more longing look into the room and then turns around, leaving Martin to his quiet vigil by the bedside of the woman he so clearly loves.

~*~

Exiting the elevator, Martin immediately starts scanning the third floor corridor for a nurse. When he finally spots one leaving a room, he practically runs over to her and this gets her attention.

“Excuse me, I’m looking for Samantha Spade’s room. Could you tell me where it is?” he asks, “I mean, Danny … that’s one of her colleagues, called me and said that she’d been shot. Well, not shot, but shot at and she fell or something and I really just need to know where she is right now, ‘cause we’re--” he babbles, coming to a full stop as soon as he hears a familiar voice calling out his name.

“Martin!” Swivelling around on his heels, he spots Danny across the corridor. “Over here!”

For a moment Martin’s eyes focus on Danny’s face, before he breaks into a run to reach him, leaving a startled nurse behind. And it feels as if his heart is about to jump out of his chest, being a librarian is not exactly conducive for a fit and healthy body. Yes, that is definitely the only reason why his heart is going 100 miles a minute.

“How is she?” he pants, before looking up and locking gazes with Danny.

And what wonderful expressive eyes the man has. Dark irises filled with concern and worry are focussing solely on him and somehow that makes Martin feel kind of special.

“She’s fine,” Danny finally says, “Still asleep, but if all goes well she’ll recover completely.”

Oh, and this is the best news Martin’s heard in a long time. In his enthusiasm and in an effort to chase away the worry in Danny’s eyes he lunges himself at the other man and hugs him tightly. And then he’s surrounded by everything that is Danny. He buries his nose into the thick black hair at the nape of Danny’s neck while fingers clutch hungrily onto the back of his dress shirt. When he feels Danny’s arms enclosing his body, Martin never wants to let go again.

Then reality kicks in. Sam! Focussing all his attention on Sam, he lets go of Danny. Casting a quick look towards Danny’s face he sees that he managed to render the man speechless. Not even a small smirk around Danny’s lips and Martin can’t help thinking that is just wrong. But it’s his fault, so he turns around and walks into Sam’s room.

Her face is so pale, but she’s alive. Slowly he picks up her hand and brushes away some of the hair that had fallen in her face while tenderly kissing her forehead. He had almost lost this amazing woman, his best friend in the world, and it strikes him that _–even now-_ he can’t think of her as his lover, just his friend. Sitting next to her, he can feel Danny’s gaze burning through him and when he finally turns around to meet temptation, the man is already gone. And Martin is left oddly disappointed.

~*~

When he walks into Sam’s hospital room the next day, he is surprised to not only find Danny there, but sitting next to him is Jack Malone. Martin’s had a tough day at work and his mood drops another notch upon seeing the man sitting very close to Sam’s bed.

“Hey,” he says, while walking over to Sam and hugging her possessively.

“Hi,” she replies, “You’re late.”

“Yeah, I had some trouble at work. Nothing important.”

It doesn’t escape his notice that Danny is leaning seductively against the wall next to Jack. His head and shoulders firm against the wall, while his hips tilt slightly forward with one leg bent, feet resting against the wall. And now might be an excellent time for Martin to start paying attention to Sam.

“Oh, hey, you remember Jack Malone, right?” she interrupts his musing.

With some effort, he manages to shift his attention from Danny to Jack. The man gives a curt nod and Martin glances at him briefly to acknowledge his presence and then his eyes are trained on Sam.

“So, how are you? Still in pain?”

“Well, not as much as when I woke up last night, but yeah, it still hurts a lot,” she replies.

Some shuffling and uncomfortable coughing behind his back and then Danny’s soft, deep voice fills the room.

“Listen, Sam. I have to go.”

“So soon?” Sam replies, focussing her attention over Martin’s shoulder.

“Yeah, I’ve got class within 40 minutes and it’ll already take me half an hour to get there, so--” he trails off.

And maybe Sam’s accident isn’t such a bad thing after all. Now, Martin won’t have to go to dance class anymore. No more having to stop work early. No more shaking of the hips. No more Danny. Wait, back up … no more Danny? Hmm, and maybe he didn’t think this through. Why is he suddenly so sad because he won’t get to see Danny anymore? That’s a good thing, ‘cause he really doesn’t like the guy. Right? What the hell is wrong with him? He needs to get his head back in the game. Not seeing Danny again will be good for him.

“Oh, dance class. Yeah, I’m sorry we won’t be able to attend anymore,” Martin cuts in, standing up and turning around to face Danny.

“We?” Sam repeats.

“Yeah, I mean … you can’t very well go hopping around, shaking your hips with a broken leg and a concussion.”

“Well, Martin … I’m not able to go anymore, but that doesn’t mean you can’t go,” Sam replies, “I mean, you really seemed to enjoy it last time and afterwards you told me you liked it.”

There are times when he just wants to strangle her. ‘Cause now Danny is smirking again, like someone has just told him he’s won the lottery.

“Oh, really?” he says, “Well, Fitz, if that’s so—I guess you’ll just have to come to class tonight.”

“Yeah, that’s a good idea, actually,” Sam concurred, “In fact, why don’t you go with Danny. I’m guessing you came by taxi, right?”

“Yeah,” Martin grunts.

“Well, Danny can drive you and I’m sure he won’t mind bringing you home afterwards. Right, Danny?”

“Oh, no … not at all,” Danny replies, half-lidded eyes leering at Martin.

“Sam, I couldn’t possibly leave you here, all alone,” Martin begins.

“It’s not a problem. I’ll stay,” Jack says, slight smile around his lips.

Oh, and now it talks and Martin doesn’t like this at all. This isn’t happening. His fiancée did not just tell me to get into a car with that infuriating man. No, it’s even worse than that, she told him to sit in that car with Danny for 30 minutes. Get through a one hour Latin Dance Class with him, only to be stuck in his car again for an additional 25 minutes. How the hell does he always get into these situations?

The walk down to the parking lot of the hospital is eerily quiet. Frantically Martin goes through subjects in his head. Something … anything to talk about would be good. Until he finally settles on:

“So, Jack’s not very talkative, is he?”

Danny shoots him a surprised glance, quirks one of his eyebrows, giving Martin the look that he now recognises as typically Danny and just leads him over to the car without answering. At the same time, giving Martin a spectacular view of his ass. Walking behind Danny, trying hard not to glance at the guy’s butt, it occurs to Martin that the coming weeks might just bring the biggest temptation he’s ever faced in life. A temptation called Danny Taylor.


	5. Chapter 5

“And one, two, three. One, two, th—AUWCH! Danny! Please watch where you put your feet,” Martha says, while bending down to rub the toes Danny stepped on.

“Sorry Martha, I’m just a little bit distracted today,” Danny answers.

Martha looks up at him from where she is crouching down on the floor, disbelief plastered all over her face.

“A little bit distracted? Danny, honey, you’re not just a little bit distracted. You’re completely _out of this world_ distracted. And it seems to me that you’ve been this way for a while now. You keep getting this far-off look in your eyes and if I try to call you on it, you just don’t seem to hear anything I say. What is this all about? Do you have a girlfriend? Is that it?”

Danny can’t help but snort at her last comment. If only she knew. She couldn’t be further from the truth. No, no woman has been on his mind lately. However, a certain blue-eyed librarian seems to have taken up residence in his mind and refuses to leave him alone.

Over the last couple of weeks he has spent a lot of time with Martin and he has come to the conclusion that the first impression of Martin being boring and cold was totally, utterly wrong. Turns out that he’s actually really nice and interesting. Not to mention absolutely gorgeous when he smiles.

And that blush. _Ohgod_ , when Martin blushes he just wants to reach out and kiss him, but that would be a bad idea since he’s Samantha’s fiancé and he should really try to remember that. Tied with the fact that Martin has a hideous taste in clothes and, most importantly, he is as straight as they come. Yes, he must remember all these things about Martin and ignore his pathetic one-sided attraction completely. Now, if only he was made of stone.

“What was that all about?” Martha asks, standing up again while brushing some of her long black hair away from her forehead.

“What?”

“That little indignant snort.”

“Nothing important.”

“No no no, you don’t get off the hook so easily Danny Taylor. I asked you if you had a girlfriend and you snorted at that. Why?”

“Martha, just leave it be. It’s complicated,” Danny answers wearily.

“No, I won’t leave it be,” she huffs, ”The community fair is this Saturday and it’s the last one we’ll ever have, so excuse me for wanting it to be perfect. Those idiots from the bank might think it’s not worth it, but I do. So, either you get your act together or I’ll look for another dance partner.”

“Martha, don’t be like that,” Danny pleads, unconsciously bringing his right hand up to rub his neck.

“Danny, I tried to be patient, but you’re the teacher here and you make more mistakes than me. Tell me what’s going on. Does it have something to do with that blonde friend of yours? The one that broke her leg and can’t come to class anymore?”

And that grabs Danny’s attention.

“Why would you ask that?”

“I don’t know,” she hesitantly responds, ”Just that, lately, you seem to talk about her and her fiancé a lot. Is that it? Are you jealous of him? Do you want her to be yours?”

And now Danny’s snorting again.

“If only it were that simple,” he sighs

“Simple? I don’t consider being in love with another man’s fiancée simple. But, if it’s not that, then what is it?”

“Nothing, Martha. Just drop it,” Danny says, dragging his hand through his hair, making it stick up in all the wrong places.

“No, I won’t drop it. Danny, you’re like a brother to me. You’ve always been there for me and the centre. I’d probably given up months ago if it hadn’t been for you and your support. I love you and I want you to be happy. And right now you are not happy. I can only help you if I know what’s going on. Now, if it’s not about that woman, then what is this about?”

Exasperated, Danny finally gives in.

“Not _what_ , but _who_.”

“But I thought you just said that it had nothing to do with her? And if it’s not about the woman, it’s about the man and I don’t think—,” she trailed off, “Oh my God, it’s about the man, isn’t it?” she asks, her eyes meeting Danny’s steady gaze.

“Martha,” Danny warns, slightly menacingly. Not that it affects her next reaction in any way. For some reason, Martha has never been very impressed with Danny’s glares.

“No, no … don’t you Martha me. This is about her fiancé, that librarian guy you’ve been telling me about. The one that has been coming to all the lessons the last couple of weeks. You have a thing for him,” she concludes, still staring at him until he just can’t deny it any longer.

“It might have something to do with Martin,” he begrudgingly admits.

“I knew it!” she yells out, “Oh my God, Danny. This is huge. Are you gay?”

“Shhhh,” Danny puts his finger in front of his mouth, silently urging her to lower her voice.

“Danny, we’re alone,” she says, rolling her eyes, ”And it’s me you’re talking to.”

“Okay, yes … I am gay. Happy now?” he finally admits.

“Is it just a crush or are you in love with him?”

And man, she doesn’t need a lot of time to adjust to unexpected, life altering revelations, does she?

“He’s straight,” he says.

“That’s not what I asked,” she throws back at him.

“I know, but it doesn’t matter what it is. He’s as straight as they come. He’s even engaged to a beautiful blonde. It’s really not important what I feel for him.”

“Ah, you said feel, so you’re in love with him.”

“Didn’t you hear anything that I just said?”

“Oh, yes, I did. I just chose to ignore it. I tend to do that when people talk nonsense.”

“It wasn’t nonsense.”

“Yes it was. When you’re in love you’re in love. The rest doesn’t matter,” she answers, raising her hand in a dismissive gesture.

“Look, I don’t know okay? I don’t know if I’m … in love. All I know is that we really connect, you know?” he quietly says, dropping his head until his chin touches his chest, “I mean, he always comes in early, when there aren’t a lot of people here yet and then we just talk about so many different things. And it’s so easy and refreshing to talk to him. He just sits there and listens to every damn word I say. And he doesn’t fake it like most people. He really hears me. And it never gets old. I find myself anticipating his arrival, I’m happy whenever he’s close and miss him when he’s not around. When he smiles at me, I have to smile back just because I can’t stop myself. And when he comes in all deflated and unhappy, I just want to kick the person that made him feel that way. I-I-I don’t know what all of that means, but it feels right. That’s all. It just feels right.”

Slowly he lifts his head and searches for Martha’s eyes, only to find her studying him with a besotted little smile.

“I’ve got news for you honey,” she says while gently cupping Danny’s cheek, “You aren’t just in love. No. You’re completely head over heels in love.”

Pulling away from her hand, Danny turns around and frantically starts pacing the room.

“No, I’m not. Because that would mean that I’m in love with a straight librarian who’s engaged to one of my best friends and colleagues. And I cannot even begin to explain on how many levels that would be wrong. So, no … I can’t be in love. I just can’t.”

“You can’t stop love Danny. Trust me, I’ve tried many times before,” Martha says, her voice laced with affection.

“No, perhaps not,” he answers, abruptly stopping in front of her, “but, I can sure as hell try to ignore it.”

“Oh, Danny, that’s not—“

And then the sound of a creaking door echoes through the dance hall.

“Am I interrupting anything?” a familiar voice calls out from the doorway.

Danny lets out a little groan. Great. Martin. Just what he needs right now.

~*~

Martin’s not sure what he’s doing when he finds himself taking the bus to the East Side community centre. He knows there’s no lesson tonight because of Saturday’s fair and he was all intent on going home, reading a good book and going to bed early. Really, he was. Instead, he’s walking up the stairs of the community centre, taking two steps at a time. Still trying to fool himself that he’s only there to see if he can help out a hand for the fair. But he knows all too well that it isn’t the fair that drives him through the cold rain to another part of town.

It’s Danny. Danny who likes him and talks to him as if he is really there. Unlike all the people at work who seem to talk through him, instead of to him. Danny doesn’t have to pretend to like him, ‘cause it’s genuine. Martin’s not sure how he knows this. It’s just a feeling he gets every time he sees Danny’s eyes fixed upon him when he’s all caught up in whatever he’s talking about.

Over the last couple of weeks they’ve been having the most amazing conversations about different topics and Danny has never judged him for anything he said. He just listened and gave his own opinion. No one has ever done that before and Martin thinks that this is something he could really get used to.

As he approaches the door of the classroom he hears faint voices that increase in volume the closer he gets. One distinctly Danny’s and the other one a woman. And maybe he should have thought about this before he stepped on that damn bus. What if Danny has a girlfriend in there? Why did Martin never think of that? Why the hell did he never lay the link from Danny to girlfriend. After all, the man is gorgeous. So, it stands to reason that he has a stunning girlfriend. All long legs, soft curves and smooth skin. And why does the thought of Danny with some long-legged bimbo upset his stomach? Why does that image make him want to punch something really hard? 

He’s half-tempted to turn around and go home before anyone knows he’s there. He could go home. To his book. To his bed. His cold empty bed. Yeah, that’s what he’ll do. Yet he doesn’t move an inch. And Martin is starting to suspect that he might have developed a little Danny-addiction over the last couple of weeks. An addiction he doesn’t know how to quit anymore. This is seriously fucked up, because he isn’t gay at all. He’s just Danny-gay. That’s all. He harbours a small crush on one guy. Hey, no biggie. It happens to guys all over the world all the time. Right? Yes, that’s what he’ll keep telling himself. So, he’ll go in, face temptation once and for all, and finally get rid of this silly crush. He’ll even be nice to his girlfr-- bimbo. Okay, so he can’t quite think in a friendly manner about her yet, but that’ll come in time.

“Okay, Fitzgerald. Show the world what you’re made off. You’re here now. You might as well go in and make the best of it. Suck it up and be a man,” he mutters, unconsciously echoing his father, before he reaches for the door handle and opens the door.

And then Martin steps inside and there he is. Danny Taylor, turning around and shooting him a surprised but brilliant smile and _ohmygod_ , are those leather pants? _Fuckno_ , they’re not just leather pants. They are unbearably tight leather pants with a sleek black t-shirt to match. A t-shirt that seems to be painted on Danny’s muscled body. And as Martin’s standing there, bimbo completely forgotten, staring and _–what he suspects-_ smiling like a loon, he realises that quitting Danny might not be as easy as he had anticipated. Yeah, he’s so screwed.

~*~

Martha curiously checks out the stranger that just stepped into the class room. She’s about to tell him that class is cancelled today and send him away again when she notices his goofy smile. A smile directed at Danny, who is currently doing his very best to match it.

And then she gets it. Martin. This is Martin. Martin, the librarian. Martin, whom Danny can’t be in love with. Martin, who is straight. And she has to admit that Danny has got good taste. This guy is gorgeous with his beautiful blue eyes, handsome face and lean body. Although he might want to reconsider that horrid orange sweater peaking out from between the tails of his open coat.

And he’s still staring and smiling and completely ignoring Martha. _Huh, unrequited my ass_. This guy is clearly as besotted with Danny as Danny is with him. These boys need to get their priorities straight. And what better time than the present to start with that? She walks up to Martin, raising her hand towards him.

“You must be Martin,” she confidently says.

Martin’s slightly puzzled eyes meet hers as he tears his eyes away from Danny and focuses on her.

“Yes, I am,” he answers and briefly shakes her hand.

“I am Martha Ramos, head of this centre.”

A surprised look crosses Martin’s features before an almost relieved expression settles on his face. And what is that all about?

“You wonder how I know your name. Am I correct?”

“Now that you mention it. Yeah, I do.”

“You have Danny to thank for that. He told me all about you,” she says, smiling winningly at him.

A faint blush appears on his cheeks as Martin quickly looks back at Danny and shoots him another dazzling smile. And Martha can’t help but think that he looks adorable with that boyish grin plastered all over his face.

“Really? Well, Danny told me about you too,” he answers, looking back at Martha, “Pleased to meet you ma’am.”

“Pleased to meet you, Martin.”

“Martin, what are you doing here?” Danny interrupts, “Didn’t you know that there’s no lesson tonight because of the fair?”

Momentarily confused, Martin scrambles to answer the question.

“Oh, no. I forgot,” he mumbles.

And Martha doesn’t believe one word of it. Forgot indeed. Obviously he was just looking for an excuse to see Danny. Well, better help the poor boy out. He wanted to see Danny. Well, he’ll get to see him for the rest of the night.

“Listen. Martin. Would you do me a favour?” she asks.

“Uhm, sure.”

“Danny and I are supposed to be practising the dance for the community fair this Saturday. But, my son just called. Something about an emergency. Knowing Raul it probably has to do with his sister. Would you mind taking over from me and practice the dance moves with Danny. I don’t want to keep him from practicing, just because I have to go,” she says as she shoots him her most innocent smile.

“Me?” Martin asks, studying Martha as if he’s questioning her sanity.

“Yes.”

“Martha, maybe this isn’t—“ Danny starts.

“Hush, Danny. You can practice the moves just as easily with him as with me. I’ll be there tomorrow and the day after. Plenty of time to catch up.”

“Uhm, I’m not a woman,” Martin nervously interrupts.

“Of course you’re not,” she says as she slowly scans Martin’s body with her eyes, making him blush even more, “you’re a man and a fine specimen at that. But, it’s not hard. Just pretend to be a woman and let Danny lead you.”

And was that a groan she just heard coming from Danny’s direction?

“Now, Martin, would you do this for me and Danny? It would be such a big help.”

“Sure, why not?” Martin answers, after hesitating briefly.

“Oh, thank you,” she says as she quickly gathers her jacket and purse, “I have to go now before my kids break down the house. Bye Danny. You two have fun now.”

She blows a kiss and a wink in Danny’s direction and then she’s gone, leaving Danny and Martin alone and uncomfortable, standing in the middle of the room. It hits both of them at the same time that they’ve never truly been alone before. Not like this anyway. With nothing to occupy their minds like driving a car or waiting outside a hospital room, worried sick for Sam. Both of them suddenly understand that it’s going to be a very long night. Strangely enough, neither of them finds that thought as troubling as it should be. And that’s exactly what worries them the most.


	6. Chapter 6

Never before has Danny wanted to break the silence as much as he does now. Standing there, facing Martin with a blank mind and absolutely nothing to say besides the ‘I am going to kill Martha’ mantra that is constantly whirling around in his head. And that is not an idle thought. Tomorrow he will get Martha for this and he will get her good.

However, that doesn’t change his current predicament. And why doesn’t he know what to say? He is the dance instructor, so he could just start with some easy moves to get Martin into the rhythm of the dance. But in order to practice those moves Martin would have to practically be plastered against him and, _ohmygod_ , he doesn’t know if he has the stamina to get through an entire night with Martin right there, in his personal space. Half tempted to call the whole thing off, Martin suddenly interrupts the heavy silence.

“So, where do you want me?” he asks.

Everywhere. Oh, and why is his mind insisting on turning such an innocent question into something straight from a porn movie. His libido is not making this any easier for him.

“Huh,” he mumbles unintelligently.

“Danny?” Martin tries again.

And it’s time to get his act together because he suspects that just standing there and staring at Martin is not a good look on him.

“Oh, well. If we’re really going to do this—and by this, I mean dancing.”

That earns him a small smile from Martin who is probably thinking he’s talking to an idiot by now.

“Yeah?” Martin encourages him.

“As I was saying, if we’re going to—dance, you’ll need to come a lot closer than that,” he says while gesturing lightly towards the wide open space between them. And he might as well be on the moon and the distance might be the sea of tranquillity as far as Danny is concerned. Because he knows that as soon as Martin steps closer his senses will kick into overdrive and his body will be wide awake.

“Okay, first let me take off my coat,” Martin replies before turning around, walking over to the corner of the room and simultaneously removing his coat.

Danny thinks he should have brought his sunglasses, because Martin is wearing the ugliest orange sweater ever invented. There’s no way in hell that he’s going to stare at that thing for the rest of the night.

“You know what? Why not take off the sweater too? It’ll get pretty warm in here once we’re practicing,” he quickly suggests.

“Oh, okay,” Martin replies, before he reaches for the hem of his sweater and pulls it over his head. And _sweetjesus_ the t-shirt he’s wearing underneath has decided to rebel and creeps up together with the sweater, revealing pale smooth skin and firm back muscles. Now Martin’s hair is all tussled and wild and Danny is certain that God has decided to torment him by presenting him with a Martin that looks absolutely debauched.

Carelessly tossing the sweater aside, Martin makes his way back to the middle of the dance hall. His right hand coming up, fingers combing through his hair in an idle attempt to get it back in line.

“So, don’t we need music?” he suddenly asks.

Damn. Danny knows that he had forgotten something while he was daydreaming. Not his fault though, Martin’s presence seems to make him unable to access his higher brain functions.

“Oh yeah, of course. Stay here,” he gestures towards Martin, while he walks over to the stereo installation. “The music we’re dancing to is a mix of all kinds of Latin dances. The main theme that keeps coming back is _slow seduction_ ,” he says, still fiddling with some buttons to find the right music.

“Sounds interesting,” Martin replies from across the dance hall.

“We’ll start with the third part of the intro,” Danny explains, “The music here is very smooth and sensual and during that part I’m supposed to seduce Martha by swaying around her in a seductive manner. It’s a series of complex dance moves and I have them in my head, but for some reason I can never get them quite right.”

“Okay. What do I do?”

“Well, not much really. This part is all about a man trying to seduce the woman of his dreams,” Danny says, finally turning around and walking towards Martin.

“Oh, so I just need to stand here and pretend to be a woman that’s being seduced?”

“Basically, yes.”

“Okay. I can do that. Piece of cake,” he says.

“Good,” Danny replies.

And then the music begins. A slow beat followed by a smooth voice crooning in Spanish and suddenly Danny is right there, shuffling impossibly close, straight into Martin’s personal space. Practically bumping noses, Danny tries hard to concentrate on the music instead of the man whose space he’s invading.

“Danny?” Martin says, voice all husky and breath warm and moist on Danny’s skin.

“Yeah?” Danny whispers back.

“Are you sure there is nothing I can do?”

“Positive,” Danny responds.

“Okay.”

Then Danny moves, grinding his body into Martin’s while bringing his arms around him. Slowly swaying to the left, circling Martin as if Martin’s the sun and Danny’s a planet in orbit. Doomed to always be cast away and pulled back in by the sun’s gravity. Suddenly, he breaks the connection and then forcefully draws back. Closer and closer until nothing’s between them anymore.

He’s surrounded by Martin now and _ohgod_ , the man smells really good. And while he’s seduc—uhm, dancing with Martin, it hits Danny that all animosity he had towards Martha has vanished. In fact, he thinks that this just might have been the best idea Martha has ever had. He should really thank her for this tomorrow. Yeah, he might even buy her some flowers.

~*~

Three quarters of an hour later Martin is starting to rethink his entire foolish decision to walk through that door tonight. Not that he has enough blood left in his brain to actually think something through. This, of course, all due to the fact that one Danny Taylor is currently plastered against his chest, gently swaying from left to right. This cannot be advantageous in kicking his raging Danny addiction. Well, not that his body seems to mind very much. ‘Cause as he’s standing here, safely ensconced in a universe called Danny, surrounded with his sweaty slick skin sliding against his, hands caressing him intimately, Martin realises that now is as good a time as any to finally admit that he might be more gay then he had been willing to admit only one hour ago.

When Danny said that this dance was seductive he was seriously understating it. Especially when Danny suddenly turns within the confines of his arms, dark smouldering eyes boring in his blue ones.

God, did he just think that? Could he possibly sound even more like a cheap Harlequin romance novel?

But, then that thought vaporises when one leather clad leg climbs up and up until it surrounds his waist, the rest of Danny’s body bending backwards, t-shirt riding up, revealing smooth mocha coloured skin that makes Martin think about using his tongue for all sorts of inappropriate things. Things he shouldn’t be thinking about, like ever. And Martin’s not sure how much longer he’ll be able to just stand there before spontaneously combusting and burning up until there’s nothing left but a small pile of horny ashes.

“Martin?”

Did Danny’s lips just move? Did he say something? Hard to hear anything above the rush of blood pounding southwards through his veins right now. Danny’s leg slips from his waist and suddenly he’s standing up again. For the first time in about an hour, space divides them once more and Martin half heartedly wishes that he had a time machine to go back in time, because no matter how wrong Danny makes him feel, he still kind of likes it-- a lot.

“Martin, are you okay?”

Okay Martin, focus.

“Yeah, I’m—fine. Why?”

“Well, you look a little flustered. You’re all red. I thought maybe we should call it a day. I wouldn’t want to tire you out,” Danny says, walking towards the stereo installation and shutting the music off.

“Oh well, nah. I’m fine. I could go all night.”

He did not just say that. Did he? Judging by Danny’s strange gaze and amused smile aimed at him, he probably did. Apparently a horny Fitzgerald is also a very idiotic and bumbling Fitzgerald.

“Yeah well, despite your ability to—go all night, I’m getting kind of tired,” Danny says. 

“Oh, okay … I guess I’ll go home then,” Martin replies, slightly disappointed.

“Yeah, I guess so,” Danny says while looking down, suddenly fascinated with the floor.

Martin really doesn’t want this night to end yet, but he doesn’t have a clue how to tell Danny. So, he turns and slowly walks over to the corner where he left his sweater and coat and starts to dress.

“Listen Martin,” Danny’s voice sounds from behind him.

“Yes,” Martin says, hoping that Danny might say what he’s thinking.

“I might be tired, but I’m no way near tired enough to go to bed yet. So, maybe we could get some coffee or something? There’s a great little coffee shop right around the corner from here. Real decent people,” Danny hesitantly offers.

And this is getting ridiculous, not to mention dangerous. Martin should really just firmly say no and go home, but instead what comes out is this:

“I—I don’t know, Danny. Maybe this isn’t –” he trails off.

“Oh, come on Martin. At least let me buy you a coffee to thank you for sticking around and helping me practice for the fair? Please?”

And how could he possibly say no to that?

“Okay then. Why not?” he accepts in defeat.

It seems to Martin that there’s no escaping from Danny. And he’s not all that certain that, if he would be given the chance to escape, he would actually grab it.

~*~

An hour and 26 minutes later, Danny finds himself safely ensconced in a booth at his favourite coffee shop, sitting across from Martin who is in the middle of giving a passionate plea against marriage. Even if he doesn’t seem to realise it himself.

“I’m telling you Danny. The whole marriage thing is an industry designed to lure you into the trap of ridiculously expensive romantic crap. I mean, Sam’s dress alone is one of the most expensive items we have to buy. And don’t even let me start about the booking of the church. I mean, it’s the house of God. Why the hell should we pay for that? The whole thing just makes me gag and a part of me just wants to quit it all and step out of it while I still can,” Martin says.

“So, why don’t you?” Danny asks.

That’s obviously the wrong question to ask, ‘cause now Martin is looking at him with some kind of an owlish look on his face as if he’s not quite sure how to respond.

“I can’t,” he finally says.

“Why not?” Danny asks again.

Somewhere in the back of his mind Danny knows that this is none of his business and he should just leave it alone, but when did he ever listen to his inner voices before?

“Well, for one thing—” Martin starts.

“Yes?”

“Well, I couldn’t possibly do that to Sam. It would destroy her. She loves me.”

“And you love her, right?” Danny asks.

Heavy silence before Martin slowly drags his hand through his hair while intently studying a dried up coffee stain on the table.

“Yeah, of course I do,” he says, looking up from his silent study, honest eyes staring straight at Danny, “I lo— I love her very much.”

And this shouldn’t hurt so much, because Martin’s not his. He never was. Danny supposes it was silly of him to hope that maybe Martin could someday feel something more for him. However, that doesn’t change the fact that his heart breaks a little when he reads the silent acknowledgement of Martin’s love for Sam in his eyes. At that moment Danny’s stomach chooses to object and that’s his cue to subtly change the subject.

“Well, you say that marriage is expensive. But it’s not just that. Everything is expensive these days. Look at the community centre. It got too expensive for Martha and now she has to close it down.”

“What?” Martin asks.

“Yeah, the bank foreclosed and sold the building to some real estate agents,” Danny says, ”Apparently they’re going to build some new apartment buildings there. So the centre has until the end of the year. Then it’s bye bye.”

“But, what about all the people that depend on the centre?”

“Ah, from your mouth to God’s—no, to the bank’s ears,” Danny answers grimly.

“Man, that’s just horrible. What’s Martha going to do about it?”

“What can she do? I’ve been to the bank myself to plead on her behalf. We figured that coming from an FBI agent they might be more forthcoming, but it didn’t work. So, I came up with a new idea. I figured I might get a loan to set up a new centre. I even found the perfect building only a few blocks from here,” he ruefully says.

“What happened?” Martin asks.

“Well, apparently I don’t have enough collateral. Even though I managed to find a few companies willing to invest and that I was committed enough to give up my job for this,” he says.

“Would you?” Martin wants to know.

“Give up my job? In a heartbeat. I mean, I love my job, but lately—” he trails off, “Let’s just say that lately it hasn’t been all that satisfying anymore and it’s time to move on to new things.”

“And the bank still said no?”

“Yeah, they don’t believe I’m actually going to give up my job because of the decrease in my pay check. Only, what they don’t know is that I never did my job for the money and neither would I open a new centre for the money. It’s about people. It’s always been about people,” he quietly admits.

Danny knows he just admitted to something that he never told anyone else and he’s sure that means something, but he doesn’t want to spend too much time thinking of what that something exactly is.

“Do you have the plans for the new centre on paper?” Martin asks.

“Of course, I couldn’t go to the bank without plans.”

“You know, if you don’t mind, I’d like to see them sometime. I’ve got some experience with banks and my father works for the _Bank of America_. He’s one of the managers at the Washington office. Maybe I could show those plans to him. Ask him what he thinks. Maybe he could pull a favour,” Martin says.

If only Martin had been the biggest asshole ever. At least then Danny would have a solid reason to put him out of his head. But no, Martin has to be this completely and unbelievably great guy.

“You would do that for me?” he asks.

“Sure. I mean, me and my dad aren’t exactly the best of friends, but he owes me for something and I’m sure I could get him to take a look at your plans.”

“That would be so great,” Danny responds, “I don’t know what to say.”

“Don’t say anything. Just say yes.”

“Okay, I accept the offer.”

“Good, I’ll be in the library tomorrow, working. Just come by to drop off those plans and I’ll see what I can do.”

“Okay, I’ll do that.”

“Good. Now, if you’ll excuse me. It’s time for me to go. The last bus comes in about 15 minutes and I don’t want to miss it.”

“Yeah, I should probably go home too. Early start tomorrow.”

“Yeah, so—” Martin starts, “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow then”

“Yeah, tomorrow,” Danny replies, impulsively reaching over the table and grabbing Martin’s hand, gently tugging it closer to him, “Thank you Martin. Thank you so much.”

“Well,” Martin says, blushing furiously and applying some pressure to Danny’s hand, “Don’t expect too much. It could lead to nothing. But, you’re welcome.”

And this is how Danny finds himself sitting at a table in a coffee shop at 11pm, while it’s pouring outside. Sitting across from Martin _–who is still wearing a horrid orange sweater only Danny doesn’t really care about that anymore-_ , holding his hand, wishing for this moment to last forever. And then it’s gone as Martin slowly draws back his hand and starts putting on his coat. Smiling at Danny one last time he says:

“Tomorrow.”

And then he’s gone.

Ten minutes later Danny still hasn’t moved an inch. He’s staring at the empty spot across from him. Fervently wishing that he had never met Martin, because if he isn’t careful he might just find himself head over heels in love with a man who’s going to be his best friend’s husband. Oh, and who is he kidding? Martha was right. It’s too late to stop himself from falling, since he’s already there. Too late for him to ignore it, since he’s submerged in everything that is Martin. So, there’s nothing to do but to bury his face in his hands, make a little grunting noise and just sit there for a long time after Martin’s gone.


	7. Chapter 7

It’s the next day, mid-afternoon when Martin finally allows himself to contemplate the night before. Unwrapping books and putting them in the correct section of the library is something he can do with his eyes closed, so that leaves him a lot of unoccupied brain space to obsess over Danny. All of it feels so surreal right now. The dancing, the joking, the talking and eventually the hand-holding. Did all those things really happen? Did he really sit in that booth, gazing into another man’s eyes? Is he losing it somehow? 

It’s almost as if something came over him that cast away all of the overwhelming confusion he had felt up until then. A sense of peace he never felt before. For a moment, when Danny grabbed his hand, all was right in the world. He could feel himself blush furiously and he knew he was grinning like a loon and acting like some silly 16-year old girl, gazing into her prince’s eyes. And he didn’t care. Not one bit. Because Danny was holding his hand. Strong lean fingers enclosed his hand. Thumb slightly stroking his palm and it made Martin wild with something he couldn’t name. He _wanted_ so much in that moment and none of his wants and wishes had the name Samantha in them. And that scared him a lot. Sam was safe and easy. Danny? Not so much. 

What is going on? He used to be so certain of his life and all the things that ruled it. But now his entire world has been rearranged by one single man. How is it possible that only one person can make such a difference? Everything’s changed now. Somehow the world is more colourful and the people are more pleasant and he just knows that every single one of those emotions can be traced back to Danny. It’s as if he’s under a spell. Although he’s not quite sure which spell it is.

He's come to accept that his feelings for Danny are far from platonic, but are they in any way related to genuine _l--like_? Or is it just some kind of weird pre-wedding jitters _lust_? In either case it doesn’t seem like a good idea to follow his gut in this one. ‘Cause every time Danny is near, his gut is practically screaming to jump him. And somehow he doesn’t think that molesting Danny is going to offer any solution to his reoccurring confusion. 

He closes his eyes when a familiar voice suddenly calls his name from somewhere behind him. And he should really learn how to keep his feelings in check because he’s precariously balancing on the ladder right now. But, so help him God, whenever Danny says his name he gets this fluttery feeling inside and the 16-year old girl returns with a vengeance. Taking a deep breath to find his equilibrium again, he finally calls back, after Danny says his name again. 

“Martin?” 

“Yeah, Danny, I’m here in the Business Ethics aisle. Hold on a minute. I’m coming down.”

A minute later, Martin finds himself standing in front of a Danny he’s never met before. This is FBI Agent Taylor, looking very smart and professional in a dark blue suit with matching tie. Martin idly wonders if the man could look bad in anything and then suddenly becomes hyper-aware of his own scruffy state.

He’s never been the type to be self-conscious about superficial things like clothing. This morning he woke up, knowing that he’d be shelving books today and that always means lots and lots of dust. So he decided to wear one of his oldest pants and shirts to do that job. He feels kind of stupid right now, but Danny doesn’t seem to mind as he’s standing there, smirking as if he knows exactly what Martin's thinking about. Which is a ridiculous thought. There’s no possible way Danny can know, but still Martin wonders. 

“So, did you mean what you said last night?” Danny asks. 

“About what? I said a lot of things. Some of it I don't wish to repeat,” Martin jokes. 

“About the plans for the centre. You said that maybe you father could take a look at them,” Danny says, starting to look a bit uncomfortable, “but it’s okay if you didn’t mean it. I understand how difficult it'd be for you, and--” 

“No no, not difficult,” Martin interrupts, “I told you I’d take a look at them and ask my dad about it. And I will. I promised and I don’t back out of my promises.” 

“I’m glad,” Danny responds, shooting him a grateful smile before picking up the bag standing next to him and handing it to Martin, “Here you go. It’s all in there: the official papers, the bank statements, the sponsors, the different financial and architectural plans.” 

“Okay, thanks,” Martin replies, setting the bag down on a nearby table. 

“So--” Danny begins, before he's suddenly interrupted by a tough looking woman who just entered the Science section and calls out his name. 

“Danny! I just got a call from Jack. They found a witness. We have to go check it out.” 

“Okay, start the car. I’ll be right out.” 

“Danny,” the woman says while sending him an intimidating glare followed by a curious glance in Martin’s direction, making him feel very uncomfortable. It’s almost as if she’s analysing him from top to toe. He wouldn’t want to be on this agent’s bad side. 

“Listen, Viv,” Danny starts, plastering on his most charming smile, “I’ll be right there. Don’t worry.” 

“Yeah right,” she huffs, “Danny, that charming smile of yours stopped working on me— oh, about 5 minutes after I first met you.” 

“Viv, please,” Danny tries again, more genuine this time. 

“Okay fine, but if you’re not there in two minutes, I’m leaving without you and then it’s up to you to explain to Jack why I had no back-up on the job.” 

“Okay, okay, I’ll be there,” Danny concedes. 

“You’d better,” she mumbles and then she’s out the door again. 

Martin lets out a nervous breath, kind of glad that she’s gone. 

“Don’t let Viv intimidate you,” Danny reassures him, “Her bark is worse than her bite. She’s really an amazing woman.” 

“Yeah, I’ll bet that is what all your suspects think when she rips them apart,” Martin quips. 

Danny lets out a quiet chuckle and then the uncomfortable silence is back. He runs his hand through his hair and if Martin didn’t know any better he would say that the guy looks kind of nervous right now. But, that’s stupid, because Danny is never nervous. Then the other hand joins the first one and maybe Martin is on to something after all. 

“So, uhm … Martin. You know Saturday is the Community Centre’s fair, right?” Danny starts. 

“Yeah.” 

“Okay, so-- I have some extra tickets here and I was kind of wondering if you’d be interested in coming?” he finally brings out, sending Martin an expectant look. 

“Oh, uhm, well actually I--” Martin says. 

“I mean, you don’t have to if you don’t want too,” Danny interrupts him, “but we’d appreciate it if you could come, since you helped us out yesterday. Us— as in Martha and me. And, I—I’d really like you to be there,” he quietly adds. 

How can Martin possibly refuse that? So he does the only thing he can do. 

“Sure, I’ll be there.” 

And then the sun breaks through as Danny sends him another one of those heart stopping radiant smiles. Basking in it’s warmth, Martin realises that just to see that smile again he'd probably say _yes_ to anything Danny asks him. 

“Great. Here’s the ticket,” Danny says as he hands Martin the blue ticket, “The fair starts at 3 in the afternoon, but the actual dance show is at 7.45."

"I'll be there," Martin replies, smiling back at Danny.

"Okay. Listen-- I have to go now, before Viv makes good on her threat. So, I guess I’ll see you Saturday then.”

“Yeah, bye.” 

Then Danny walks away with Martin’s eyes following him until he can’t see him anymore. Is he dreaming or has he just accepted a date with Danny? No, not really. Not a real date. Just an invitation to a special occasion. A non-date really. Yes, that’s what he’ll call this. A non-date. ‘Cause a date with Danny would be preposterous. After all, he’s going to be a married man and it’s not like Danny wants him in that way. They’re two friends who enjoy each other’s company and that’s why he’s going.

So, all he has to do now is call Sam and tell her he can’t make it for dinner Saturday because he’s got a non-date with another man.

And he can just hit himself, because yeah-- that will go down well. There's something seriously twisted with his logic, but it’s all he’s got right now and he's planning on hanging on to it for as long as he possibly can.

Besides, he won’t exactly use those words either. Nothing wrong with telling your fiancée a little white lie for her own good. Right? 

Oh god, he’s so going to hell for this. 

~*~

The rest of the week rushes by and before Martin knows it, it’s Saturday evening, twenty to eight, and he’s standing in front of the East Side Community Centre once again. And this time he’s not alone. All across the sidewalk little booths are set up. Selling everything that’s edible, from pancakes to hot chocolate. Children are running around, screaming and yelling. Their parents are laughing and talking. It’s almost heart warming to see all these people together, forgetting every day hardship for a while, just enjoying themselves.

Almost. Because Martin has to admit that for a non-date this surprisingly feels like — _well, let’s just say it now_ — like a date. 

And he should probably feel bad about that. Consumed with guilt. Only he’s not. He feels kind of giddy and fuzzy. As if he’s 6 years old again, on Christmas morning, getting out of bed with that feeling of anticipation curling up in his belly. That feeling that slowly uncoils when he walks down the stairs and into the living room, finally bursting loose at the sight of all the multi-coloured presents perched under the tree. 

That same feeling is with him today. Some sickeningly sweet anticipation that has his feet moving into the direction of the centre’s entrance. It has him climbing the stairs, dodging some kids who come running down. Elbowing through a throng of people who are all standing in the hall. And finally stepping through the dancehall’s doors only to come to full stop as soon as he’s in because then he can’t think anymore. 

He doesn’t even blink, because there, right in front of him, is Danny. He’s curled up in a warm embrace with Martha. Slowly swaying to the music. Martin recognises every move the couple makes. And the ache resurfaces when he remembers it all. He remembers the way Danny stepped around him, touched and caressed him. He remembers the curve of Danny’s neckline when he leaned back into Martin’s embrace. He can still feel the pressure of Danny’s hipbones against his pelvis. And Martin knows it’s nuts, but if he closes his eyes he can smell Danny, almost taste him on his tongue. 

Just like that, a bout of irrational jealousy flares up within him. Danny’s not supposed to be this comfortable with Martha. He’s not supposed to dance with her like this, almost as if he’s making love to her. That’s just wrong. Danny’s not supposed to make love to anyone but Martin. 

And then the truth hits him. It’s not an overwhelming realisation of something unknown and new. No lightning bolts blinding his vision. No fireworks setting off in his head. Merely a silent recognition and confirmation of something that was there all along. It’s not just lust. It never really was. 

No, he’s completely, head over heels, madly, idiotically, unavoidably in love with another man. 

“Oh my God,” he mutters out loud, as if to convince himself, “I’m in love with Danny.” 

Through the rush of blood pounding in his head, he can vaguely hear someone congratulating him. And suddenly he can’t breathe. So he backs out of the room, turns around quickly and bolts down the stairs as fast as he can. Once outside he braces himself against the wall, takes deep breaths in order to get the panic attack under control. An elderly lady touches his shoulder and asks if he’s all right. 

“I’m fine. Thank you,” he wheezes. 

After one more concerned look from the woman, he’s alone again. Just leaning against the graffiti clad wall. Not quite sure where to go from there. So many questions whirling in his mind. So few answers. 

What is he supposed to do now? He has the knowledge, but what’s next? With a deep sigh he slides down the wall, only to sit down at an awkward angle, and buries his face in his hands. He feels as if he’s stuck in a cloud of confusion and all he can do is wait. Wait for Danny to come to him. Wait for Danny to provide him with answers. Wait for Danny to _inevitably_ break his heart.

This just can't get any worse.

And then the sky opens up and rain pours down.


	8. Chapter 8

It’s not until the dance has ended, the applause has died down and the people have scattered all over the centre again, that Danny allows his disappointment to show on his face. The perfect smile disappears and that dull ache he feels in his chest spreads all over the rest of his body.

Martin didn’t come. And it hurts more than it should.

He wants to be angry. Angry with Martin for standing him up and making him believe that—no, that isn’t fair. It was never about Martin, but about himself. Somewhere along the line he fell in love with a great guy and he let himself believe that perhaps the interest was mutual. Martin’s answering smile when Danny invited him over to the fair had left him with some lingering hope that perhaps Martin wasn’t so straight after all. But, it appears now that it was all just an illusion. He saw what he wanted to see and now he’s paying for that mistake. So really, Danny has no one else to be angry with but himself. Because he was stupid enough to fall for Martin.

Of all the scenarios he had dreamed up for this night, Martin not showing up at all was not one of them. Danny had envisioned heated looks, shy smiles and even some passionate kisses, possibly followed by Martin punching him in the eye and suing him for sexual harassment. But, he doesn’t really like to dwell on that particular scenario. It isn’t one of his best, although it’s probably the one most likely to happen.

He had fantasised about kissing Martin up until the point where he could almost taste him. His lips would be soft but insistent. Martin would be a cautious kisser, not giving too much away at once. Tentatively he would search for the right angle and wait for some form of disapproval from Danny. But Danny wouldn’t resist. He would eagerly let Martin explore his mouth until he felt that the other man was at ease and then he’d open his mouth a bit, flicking out his tongue to lightly lick Martin’s lips. And that would be it. Martin’s mouth would open and the tentative kiss would change. It would become heated and passionate until their lips ached from the friction and they had to let go to take a deep breath. But Danny would dive back in as soon as he’d taken that breath. He would beg for entrance again and oh, the things he would do if he had the sole possession of Martin’s tongue.

Now is the time to stop dreaming. He needs to put an end to this silly crush. The longer he nurses it, the longer it will take for the pain to go away. So, that’s it then. He’ll go home and never think about _Martin_ and _love_ in one sentence again. Especially since Martin most likely went over to Sam’s place anyway. By now, they’re probably sitting on the couch together, talking about the wedding, exchanging kisses. Yeah, he is going to start thinking about non-Martin things any minute now.

“Okay, what’s going on?” Martha’s voice cuts through his wallowing. He totally forgot that she was still with him in the dancehall.

“Nothing,” Danny replies.

“Yeah right,” Martha says, worry etched in her expressive eyes, “Cut it out, Danny. What’s going on?”

“Martin,” Danny reluctantly gives in, “That’s what’s going on.”

“The librarian,” Martha says, sighing deeply.

“Yeah, the librarian.”

“All right, what did he do? Do I need to kick his ass for hurting you?”

Danny chuckles softly.

“That’s just it. He didn’t do anything. It’s me. All me,” he whispers before walking over to the corner of the hall, putting on his coat and picking up his bag. He walks over to the door, opens it and hesitates for a moment.

“I broke my own heart Martha and I don’t know how to fix it,” he says in a small voice, still facing the door, eyes rooted on the wall across the corridor. And then he steps outside, leaving a worried Martha alone in the dancehall.

Once in the corridor, Danny tries to quickly find his way through the groups of people. It turns out that it’s not so easy to just leave. People keep stopping him to tell him how much they enjoyed the dance and how sorry they are that the centre is going to close down. And he doesn’t need this right now. He doesn’t need to be reminded about the fact that the place he’s come to love over the last couple of years will soon cease to exist. Another one of his dreams down the drain. He should be used to this by now.

Over the last couple of months he had really been looking forward to this night. It was supposed to be a night of glory. But the absence of one man turned it into another wasted dream. And that’s crazy, because he loves the centre, the people and Martha very much, but he’s gradually starting to realise that he might just love Martin more.

“Stupid stupid,” he mutters while hurriedly trudging down the stairs until he reaches the main entrance hall. Cursing softly he pushes the door open and takes a step outside, only to jump back in the hallway right away. Great, just what he needs: pouring rain. He looks around and sees that instead of leaving, people are huddling together underneath the tents of the booths that are stationed all over the sidewalk.

A guy sits, slumped down against the wall, right next to the door, giving away a great impression of a drowned rat. A drowned rat that looks familiar somehow and _ohmygod_ —

“Martin?”

Drops of rain roll down the man’s cheek as he lift his head and clear blue eyes meet Danny’s puzzled ones.

“Danny,” Martin calls out and quickly scrambles up from the ground.

“Martin--,” Danny begins, “What—Why are you--”

Danny’s not sure what he’s supposed to ask right now. So many questions are rolling around in his head and the only thing Martin does is stare at him and … shiver? Did Martin just shiver? And then Danny’s basic instinct of protecting the ones you love kicks in and the questions are temporarily pushed to the back of his mind. First things first.

“Okay, you know what? Let’s get you out of the rain first. You’re shivering like someone who’s been running around naked on the North Pole,” Danny says, while gently grabbing Martin’s arm and leading him across the street to his car.

Once safely inside the car, Danny turns towards Martin, who still hasn’t said anything and _–quite frankly-_ is starting to worry Danny more and more with each second that passes.

“Listen Fitz, there’s obviously something that you’re upset about, so I’m taking you home with me. Now would be a good time to object if you don’t want to go back to my place.”

Danny stops talking and waits a beat while he expectantly studies Martin’s features. But Martin just sits there and keeps quiet.

“Okay, since I don’t hear any complaints I’m going to assume you don’t mind. So, let’s go,” he finally says before starting the car and driving into the dark night.

Ten minutes later they arrive at Danny’s apartment.

“We’re here,” Danny says, as he turns off the engine and steps out of the car. Martin quickly follows Danny out into the rain again and hurriedly walks behind him until they’re safely inside Danny’s apartment building. In complete silence, Danny leads Martin up the flight of stairs until they reach his apartment.

“Right, bathroom is the first door on the left,” Danny starts, gently ushering Martin through the front door, “You’ll find towels in the cabinet under the sink. Your coat probably protected your shirt from getting too wet, but your pants are soaked. Just leave them in the bathtub. I’ll turn on the central heating. It shouldn’t take too long for the pants to dry,” he goes on, disappearing in his bedroom to look for some replacement pants.

When he comes out Martin is still sullenly standing in the middle of the hall, waiting for him. He hands Martin some of his old track pants.

“These should do.”

And that seems to shock Martin from his daze. He turns his head slightly to the left and asks:

“Over there?”

“Yeah.”

“Thank for the pants,” Martin says.

“No sweat.”

Then Martin disappears into the bathroom and Danny is alone again, still not quite sure about what the hell he is doing. Thinking about it only confuses him more. What? He brings a man to his apartment. And not just any man. No, it has to be the man he’s in love with, but who’s not love with him. Then, he tells said man to take off his pants, which is not his brightest suggestion ever. Because, even though it might be good for Martin’s physical health, Danny now has to live with the image of a pantless Martin in his bathroom and that is so not an improvement for his own mental health.

Walking into his living room to turn on the central heating, Danny tries to come up with reasons why Martin is acting so strangely. Ever since he’s known Martin, the guy has never stopped to surprise him. Whenever Danny thought he had Martin all figured out, he did something that completely clashed with the image Danny had created in his mind. At a certain moment Danny gave up trying to understand every aspect of Martin and instead just enjoyed his company. But tonight he fervently wishes he had spent more time analysing Martin’s personality, because frankly, right now he doesn’t know what to think anymore and it’s freaking him out.

So, he does the only thing he can do, which is slouching down on the couch and wait for the man of mystery to reappear and provide him with some answers.

A few minutes later Martin joins him in the living room. Track pants on and hair all mussed up. Danny’s breath hitches at the sight and he has trouble tearing his gaze away.

“Thanks Danny,” Martin says again.

“You already thanked me for the pants,” Danny replies, regaining his composure.

“No, not for the pants. For this,” Martin says, lifting his arms and making a wide gesture that vaguely encompasses the apartment. 

“Well, you’re welcome. Are you going to talk to me and tell me what’s going on now?” Danny asks. No one ever accused him of being very patient and now he feels that he’s waited long enough.

Sighing deeply, Martin sinks down on the couch next to him and starts to explain.

“It’s just—I’m not sure anymore,” he quietly says, his eyes fixed on his hands.

“Not sure about what?” Danny asks, trying to coax out something more.

“About everything!” Martin practically yells, hands waving around.

And Danny can’t watch this any longer, so he gently gathers Martin’s hands in his own and steadies them. Catching Martin’s eyes, he goes on:

“Everything? That’s a lot to take on at the same time. Why don’t you just start with one thing and build it up from there?”

“I’m afraid,” Martin finally says.

“Afraid of what?”

“Not what— _who_.”

“Okay, so who are you afraid of?”

“You.”

“Me?” Danny says, surprised, ‘cause he didn’t expect this, “You’re afraid of me? Why?”

“Because it’s your fault that I can’t marry Sam and--,” Martin starts, “No, that isn’t true. It’s not that I can’t marry Sam. It’s that I don’t want to marry her anymore.”

Danny’s treacherous heart decides to take notice at that and starts beating wildly. Hope lurches up in his chest and there’s no way he’s going to be able to thump it down again, so he just ploughs on.

“You don’t?” he manages to ask, mouth as dry as a desert and his vocal chords not very responsive. But he needs to go on because he has hope now, but no confirmation. He’s also not entirely convinced that he’s not dreaming all of this up. It would be such an anti-climax to wake up right now. But then Martin speaks again and all thoughts of reality or dream float away.

“No,” Martin says.

“Why not?” Danny asks, afraid for the answer.

Martin laughs a little at that, as if Danny said something incredibly funny. He pulls his hands free from Danny’s and jerkily stands up from the couch. Walking over to the window, the streetlight catches his form and softly caresses his features. As he reaches the windowsill, he stops and gazes outside for a while, not uttering a word.

Just when Danny thinks that he went too far this time and that he isn’t going to get another straight answer from Martin tonight, Martin speaks up.

“What are we doing, Danny?” he asks, turning around and focussing all his attention on Danny.

And Danny suddenly knows that this is it. The talk he’s been dreading and looking forward to for weeks now. Now that it’s here, he hasn’t a clue what to say.

“What do you mean?” is all he can bring out and inwardly he cringes, because somehow he doesn’t think that Martin will appreciate his feigned ignorance.

“Don’t give me that,” Martin practically snorts, “I need clear answers here. You know exactly what I’m talking about. What’s going on here, Danny?” he says, nervously waving a hand back and fro to emphasise the space between them, “You and me—there’s something going on, but what is it? What does it mean? Does it actually mean anything? I just—I need answers.”

Now it’s Danny’s turn to laugh.

“Answers? That easy huh?” he starts, chuckling derisively, “What do I look like to you? Dear Abby? Or maybe _The Great Taylor_ , the amazing fortune teller that has answers to every question in the universe?” he adds, more harsh then intended.

“No, that’s not what--” Martin starts to explain, but is interrupted by Danny as he throws up his hand in the air and cuts off Martin’s retort.

“No, I get to talk right now. My turn.”

He agitatedly leans forward and rests his elbows on his knees. He isn’t sure what to say right now. Martin asked all the questions he wanted to ask himself. Answers? He has none. He just has knowledge. He knows that Martin feels something for him. What? That remains to be seen. It could just be some kind of pre-marriage confusion. A straight man wanting to try something out before moving on with his _normal_ life.

But there’s also something else that he knows. A certainty that goes beyond anything he’s ever known or felt before. Raising his head a little he silently studies Martin. There’s not a doubt in his mind that he wants Martin. It’s as certain as the earth circles the sun. Danny Taylor wants Martin Fitzgerald. He’s in love with Martin, who is just standing there, looking all flushed and embarrassed. His hair still a little wet from the rain and his lips all puffy and red from nervously biting them.

He is acutely aware of how much he wants to get up, walk over to Martin, put his mouth on those lips and kiss him until he can’t breathe anymore. Screw the consequences.

But it’s also a fact that Martin is engaged to a colleague and very good friend of his. He likes Sam a lot and the thought of betraying her trust like this-- It kills him.

Still looking at Martin he comes to a decision. It’s been a long time since he’s been truly happy and _–selfish as it may be-_ he’s not willing to deny himself the chance to feel that way again. Besides, he’s Danny Taylor and when has Danny Taylor ever backed out of anything he really wanted?

Slowly he stands up and walks towards Martin, without any regard for his personal boundaries. From only a few inches away Martin looks even more flushed than before. And it’s just adorable. His Adam’s apple convulsively bobs up and down and Danny is struck with the urge to lick it, but he doesn’t. Licking will come later. He’s got something else in mind first. He leans in, until his face is right in front of Martin’s. Their breaths mingle and now Danny is breathing in Martin’s scent. Oh, he could get high on this.

“You want answers, Martin?” he finally asks.

Martin swallows heavily and then nods, his eyes firmly fixed on Danny’s face.

“Well, I can’t give you any. Because I haven’t a clue what it all means,” he says, “However, I can tell you this--”

He brings up his right hand and gently cups Martin’s cheek. Thumb softly caressing the stubble. And Danny’s consciously aware that Martin stopped breathing.

“—I know exactly what I’d like it to mean.”

Plastering on a small grin, he hovers closer to Martin and he softly whispers:

“Is this okay?”

For a moment Danny thinks he’s misjudged the situation horribly because Martin is just standing there, staring at him with his eyes glazed over, still not breathing. But then Martin closes the last barrier between them by pressing his lips to Danny’s.

Danny thought about this moment. He fantasised about it. Hell, he directed whole mental movies around it. However, all those images disintegrate when compared to reality. Because in all his dreams, he never factored in the extreme awkwardness that always accompanies a first kiss.

But then Martin is smiling against his lips and none of it really matters anymore. Yes, their noses are bumping, their lips don’t quite fit yet and their teeth are clashing, but who cares about things like that when you’re in the middle of the most perfect kiss you’ve ever received? Because he’s finally kissing Martin and it’s bliss.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **The English translation of the Spanish phrases and words used in this chapter can be found at the bottom.**

It’s not until his face is separated only inches from Danny’s that Martin realises that he’s about to receive the answer he’s been searching for.

“Is this okay?” Danny whispers, dark eyes looking at him as if Martin’s the most precious thing he’s ever seen.

And how can he say no to that? So he does the only sensible thing. He closes the gap between their mouths and then he’s kissing Danny. This is not the way Martin imagined it would be like at all. Having never kissed a man, he expected roughness and quick hard bruising kisses, but nothing prepared him for the way Danny’s mouth softly glides over his. So tender and caring, as if he’s trying to communicate something without words.

Their noses bump slightly and somehow his mouth doesn’t fit Danny’s, which causes his lip to get stuck between their teeth. It’s awkward as hell, but that’s okay, because then Danny opens his mouth a bit and flicks his tongue over Martin’s lips, asking for entrance. Electricity dances up Martin’s spine and without a second thought he goes with the plan, smiling a little against Danny’s lips, just because he feels like it.

As soon as Danny has access, his tongue slips inside Martin’s mouth and Martin is lost. What felt strange and new only seconds ago, now feels like the best thing in the world. How could he have ever even contemplated giving this up? Danny’s right hand travels up Martin’s face, as if he’s trying to take in every single feature and curve with his fingers, until it gently settles in his hair.

Without any warning Martin brings up his hands and grabs Danny’s shirt, tugging him even closer, ‘cause he’s dimly aware that just kissing Danny isn’t enough anymore. The kiss changes pace as the softness somewhat disappears and desperate need for touch of skin against skin replaces it. Danny’s all over him now, but to Martin it still feels like Danny isn’t close enough. The sudden urge to crawl underneath Danny’s skin and stay there forever hits him and the mere thought of it leaves him restless.

_Ohgod_ , if he’d known it would be like this, Martin would have pounced Danny the first time he laid eyes on him. Sam would have probably ended his life in a very brutal way right then and there, but—

Oh, wait a minute. Back up. Sam. His fiancée Sam. What the hell is he doing? Just like that Martin goes from extremely aroused to completely freaked out. Startled, he breaks their kiss. Danny doesn’t seem to get the message though, because now he’s sucking Martin’s Adam’s apple as if it’s the sweetest thing he’s ever tasted. Then, as if sensing something’s wrong Danny stops his ministrations and looks up at him.

“Martin?” he asks huskily, looking at him with those beautiful heavy-lidded eyes and _ohmygod_ , what is he thinking? He can’t stop now.

Just like that Martin crashes his mouth on Danny’s again, which earns him a pleased little moan. His hands fly up and he puts them on the nape of Danny’s neck, slowly following the coarse hairs up until he can finally bury his fingers in that messy dark hair.

Martin shudders when Danny’s hands glide down his back until they reach the curve of his ass. They linger there for a moment and then settle on his hipbones, pulling Martin in even closer, until he can feel just how interested Danny is in their little tête-à-tête. Martin involuntarily moans as he feels the brush of Danny’s hard cock against his own and this is what he was born to do. God, why has no one ever told him how good it feels with a man. He could have been doing this for years.

Suddenly, just standing in the middle of the room isn’t enough anymore. Martin needs a flat surface. Any flat surface will do, because he refuses to have his first big gay sexual experience while standing in the middle of a living room. Slowly he starts backing Danny up, guiding him towards the nearest wall.

Martin vaguely notices the small coffee table that’s in between the couch and the wall. But it’s already too late, because Danny’s foot catches at the edge of the table, which causes him to stumble, brutally break the kiss and lose his balance. Desperately trying to keep from falling, Danny clutches at Martin’s shirt. And before Martin has the common sense to jerk back, he’s sprawled out on the floor, half on top of Danny, his face pressed up against Danny’s shoulder.

“Well, this is going great,” Danny dryly remarks, sending Martin into a fit of laughter. Because it seems that his first gay sex experience is being sabotaged by Murphy and his stupid law. 

Martin’s still chuckling softly when he lifts his head from Danny’s shoulder to look up at him. The laughter quickly fades away when he finds Danny gazing at him intently. It makes Martin feel oddly uncomfortable but good at the same time. He feels the heat flair in his cheeks and before he knows it he’s blushing again. That earns him a soft smile from Danny who rolls them over and is suddenly on top of him, invading his space, lightly tracing Martin’s flushed cheeks with his fingers.

“Eres tan guapo,” Danny whispers in such a revering way that it makes Martin want to hit himself that he never took up that Spanish class in high school.

But then it doesn’t matter anymore, because Danny’s sucking Martin’s bottom lip into his mouth and he feels a hand trailing down his chest, slowly opening up every button of his shirt. Danny doesn’t stop at the last button, but continues his quest downwards until he reaches the waistband of the track pants Martin’s wearing. His fingers rest on that spot, fiddle with the elastic a bit, as if he’s waiting for something. And then Martin gets it.

“Go ahead,” he says, while putting his hand over Danny’s, helping him to push the pants down to his knees. Martin’s vaguely aware that he should feel exposed right now. After all, he’s close to naked while Danny’s still fully dressed. The thought flees from his mind when Danny reaches a hand inside his boxers and grabs his cock.

Unprepared for the sensation, Martin arches his back and moans out Danny’s name. That’s all it takes for Danny to start moving his hand. He rubs his thumb gently over the head before sliding downwards in an antagonising slow move. Eyes tightly closed, Martin isn’t aware of anything but the warm hand sliding up and down. And he’s had hand jobs before, but they never felt anything like this. He likes the way his body tingles all over, almost as if he’s about to burst out of his own skin.

“Open your eyes,” Danny says and Martin struggles to comply. When he finally manages to open his eyes, Danny is staring at him. His pupils are dark and he’s breathing heavily. Puffs of air brush against Martin’s heated skin.

“Eso te gusta, ¿verdad?” Danny says, as he starts moving his hand faster. Up and down. Martin desperately claws at Danny’s shirt as he erratically starts thrusting his hips into Danny’s fist again and again. He closes his eyes and gives himself completely up to the sensation. And _ohgod_ , this is—

Then something wet touches his cheek, breath ghosting over his ear.

“Come,” Danny softly whispers.

That’s all it takes as Martin let’s out a deep moan, arches his back and just lets go.

~*~

Danny’s completely entranced with Martin’s expression as he’s coming. He’s flushed all over and the way he arches his back is so erotic that Danny has to use every ounce of concentration to not come in his pants just from looking at Martin. And then Martin's breathing evens out a bit and his body stills.

Danny is acutely aware of his hand that’s still on Martin’s cock, unwilling to let go of the slippery skin. But then Martin slowly opens his eyes and looks at him with such obvious lust that Danny can’t take it anymore. So he lets go and jumps up, thrusting out his sticky hand towards Martin to help him up. It’s time to take this to the bedroom.

Martin sluggishly reaches for his hand and Danny helps him up, pulling him in close again.

“What do you say we change locations?” he asks, softly kissing Martin’s lips.

“Bedroom?” Martin asks, leaning heavily on Danny.

“Yeah.”

“Okay,” he says without protest, while pointing down towards the track pants that are all bunched up above his shoes, “Help me take my shoes and these pants off first, otherwise I’m not going anywhere.” In less than thirty seconds Danny helps Martin out of his shoes and pants before leading him towards the bedroom.

For some reason Danny is nervous about this. A bedroom is a very intimate place and he doesn’t usually bring a lot of men there. In fact, Martin is only the second guy who has ever made it as far as his bedroom and that has to mean something, right?

Then Martin stops him right next to the bed, tugging Danny’s hand that’s still clasped tightly in his. Danny turns back a little, a question on the tip of his tongue. But before he can say anything, Martin speaks.

“Take off your clothes and lie down,” he says. The tone of his voice all commanding and Danny’s mouth goes dry while his cock perks up as he looks at Martin’s determent face. He never would have guessed that Martin would be able to bring him from half erect to completely interested by just the tone of his voice. Danny likes it and he has every intention of complying to everything Martin wants, so he silently starts to strip with a half-dressed Martin staring at him.

“Are you going to take off your shirt?” Danny asks, the sound of his voice temporarily distracting Martin as he glances down and takes in his current state of undress.

“Yeah,” he replies, and shrugs off the shirt.

A minute later they’re both naked. Without saying another word, Danny lies down on the bed. It’s all in Martin’s hands now, so he’ll wait for him to make the first move.

~*~

Martin can’t believe his luck, because there in front of him on the bed, lies a very aroused Danny Taylor, who is now beckoning him over by just gazing at him. A Danny Taylor who has wonderful hands. Hands that coaxed him to come on the living room floor.

Then there’s that voice. Martin had had no idea that the mere sound of Danny speaking Spanish would be able to arouse him in such a profound way. But he knows now and he silently adds _taking up Spanish classes_ to his mental to do-list. After all, if Danny speaking Spanish has this effect on him, then he can only imagine what it would feel like if he actually understood what Danny said.

Unable to look away from Danny, Martin has to admit that he’s absolutely gorgeous. He always knew that Danny was beautiful, but he never suspected anything like this. Endless plains of golden skin, just begging to be touched. Which leaves Martin with the question of why he is just standing here, gazing, instead of pouncing?

“I’ve never done this before,” he quietly says, surprising himself because he has no idea why he chose this particular moment to confess the extreme novelty of this experience.

“What? Sex?” Danny asked, smirking like a lunatic.

“No, not sex in general,” Martin says, rolling his eyes, “Just sex with a—,” He trails off.

“With a guy?” Danny finishes his sentence.

“Yeah.”

“Well, that’s okay. You’re never too old to learn,” Danny replies, unable to hide a pleased little grin.

“Is that so?” Martin asks, a little bit annoyed with Danny’s attitude.

“Yeah, it is. And you can start learning by touching me,” Danny says.

“Excuse me?”

“God, Fitzie,” Danny snorts, “Only you would think about being polite in a situation like this. I said: touch me. Tonight I’m yours. Your private experiment. Do whatever you want with me. Learn about my body by touching it and see how I respond. After all, practice is really the best way to learn,” he adds with a mischievous grin.

“Yes, plus the fact that being a guinea pig in this situation won’t hurt you either,” Martin chuckles.

“Well, I admit that there are some perks to the job,” Danny says, smiling that lazy grin of his, “But I’m not kidding Martin. I want your hands on me. Hell, I’ve wanted your hands on me for weeks now. Ever since you first walked into my classroom, wearing that ugly coat and that hideous scarf all wrapped around your face.”

“Hey, insulting my fashion sense does not earn you any points to get laid,” Martin says, suppressing a smile.

“What fashion sense? The one that compels you to buy an orange sweater or the one that whispers in your ear that the tweed pants look really hot on you?” Danny jokes.

Just like that, Martin is completely relaxed again. Here they are, in the middle of Danny’s bedroom, stark naked and they’re joking and laughing as if they’ve been doing this for years. Martin’s not quite sure what, but this has to mean something. And then Danny’s eyes grow serious as he stretches like a cat and reaches for Martin’s hand.

“Why don’t you join me on the bed, Martin?” he asks in a low needy voice.

“I don’t know. Will there be more Spanish?” Martin asks.

“Why? Did you like it?” Danny cheekily retorts.

“Well, I won’t say that I felt completely indifferent about it,” Martin says, flushing bright red again.

“Idiota,” Danny softly drawls.

That’s all it takes for Martin to start into action as he steps closer and places his hands on the mattress on both sides of Danny’s body. Gently, he lowers himself down until he’s lying flush against the other man. For a moment, he stays completely still, Danny’s face so very close to his, but he doesn’t touch. Not yet.

“Baila conmigo,” Danny softly whispers, running his hands over Martin’s back.

And then Martin is moving again. Kissing Danny’s eyelids, his nose, his cheeks, his neck, everything but his mouth. Going lower still, he gently licks and sucks his way down Danny’s chest. He vaguely hears harsh breaths, moans and desperate pleas from somewhere above him.

“Sí, así. Justo así.”

He kisses his way around Danny’s belly button before dipping his tongue in for just a second.

“ _Ohgod_ , Martin.”

He licks further down, across a perfect pelvis and places little kisses on every available patch of skin.

“Sí, ahí.”

Martin’s not sure where to go from there as he eyes Danny’s cock for a moment. He never dealt with another guy’s equipment before and he’s a bit indecisive about where to go from here. Should he just move back up again and jerk Danny off? Then he feels Danny’s hands on his head, urging him down.

“No pares,” Danny pleads, “Don’t stop now.”

Martin never was good at saying _no_ , especially to Danny. So, he lowers his head, sneaks out his tongue and tentatively licks the head of Danny’s cock. Danny’s back arches as he takes a ragged breath and releases another needy moan.

Martin feels a surge of pride as he briefly looks up and sees just how much Danny is affected by all this. He did this. He brought this man to a quivering heap of lustful moans and he quite likes it. So, without further ado he dives back in and takes Danny’s cock into his mouth. He’s a bit uncertain at first about what to do, but he figures he can’t do anything wrong by just sliding up and down and applying gentle suction. He grows bolder when Danny starts mumbling quiet encouragements in a jumble of English and Spanish.

“Yeah, like that. _Ohgod_. Más. Más, por favor. Martin Martin Martin.”

It doesn’t take too long before Martin feels Danny tensing up, the hands in his hair applying pressure to let him know that Danny’s about to come. But, Martin doesn’t pull away fast enough and Danny comes half in his mouth, half on the sheets.

Swallowing automatically, Martin gags a bit. Okay, that was one part of the experience he could have done without. But then he looks back at Danny, who is now sprawled on top of the bed and he forgets about the nasty taste in his mouth, because Danny looks absolutely debauched, sated and happy.

He crawls up from between Danny’s legs and drapes himself shamelessly over his body, resting his head comfortably on his sweaty chest, making sure that the brunt of his weight is on the mattress and not on Danny.

“So,” he casually begins, “I took your advice and experimented. Was that okay?”

“Okay?” Danny finally manages to bring out in a sleepy voice, “Oh, that was okay all right. Trust me Martin, the way you perform experiments, you’d make an excellent scientist.”

Danny slides his right hand up Martin’s side until it reaches his hair and gently strokes from the nape of Martin’s neck to his forehead, and back again. They lie like that for a few comfortable minutes until Martin breaks the silence.

“So, ask me already,” he says.

“Ask you what?” Danny asks, which earns him a snort from Martin.

“Don’t act like that. You know what.”

“All right then--,” Danny briefly hesitates, “What about Sam?”

Martin sighs deeply and pushes his upper body up on his elbows until he’s hovering a few inches above Danny. Meeting Danny’s anxious eyes he slinks down a bit and places a gentle reassuring kiss on his lips, lingering a little longer.

“No more Sam,” he whispers.

“You promise?” Danny asks, so quietly that Martin wouldn’t have known it was Danny’s voice if his lips hadn’t moved against his mouth.

“I promise,” he whispers back, “I’ll talk to her tomorrow.”

“No, we’ll talk to her tomorrow. She might be your—you know, but she’s my friend too,” Danny replies, pulling Martin a little closer.

“Okay, if that’s what you want.”

“It is what I want.”

“All right. Together then.”

“Together,” Danny says, “But enough with the talking now.”

Before he has a chance to reply, Danny’s licking his way into Martin’s mouth and just like that Martin’s hard again. It seems Danny agrees with that plan, because Martin most definitely feels something stirring against his thigh.

Martin can’t suppress a smile because he knows that this is going to be a long sleepless night. It makes for a perfect ending to a great evening. An evening that brought him one surprise after the other, with each surprise setting off a chain of events that ended up with him in Danny’s bed.

But for Martin, the most unexpected surprise of the entire evening is the slow realisation that there’s no place else he’d rather be than right here, in Danny’s arms. And strangely enough, he’s totally okay with that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **SPANISH - ENGLISH translation** :
> 
> 1) **Eres tan guapo.** \- So beautiful.  
>  2) **Eso te gusta, ¿verdad?** \- You like that, don't you.  
>  3) **idiota** \- idiot boy  
>  4) **Baila conmigo.** \- Dance with me.  
>  5) **Sí, así. Justo así.** \- That way. Just like that.  
>  6) **Sí, ahí.** \- Yeah, right there.  
>  7) **No pares.** \- Don't stop.  
>  8) **Más** \- More  
>  9) **Por favor** \- Please


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **The English translation of the Spanish phrases and words used in this chapter can be found at the bottom.**

A gentle tickling sensation on his stomach is what awakens Danny the following morning. Reluctant to open his eyes, he tries to swat away the source of irritation, but instead his hand comes in contact with a warm hand, index finger slowly drawing patterns on his sensitive flesh. Danny lets out a happy sigh and a warm grin settles on his lips, because this isn’t some random nameless guy looking for more sex. No, this is Martin, safely cocooned in his bed, using his belly as a writing pad.

He’s still a little too groggy to fully comprehend what Martin is writing down, but he can guess. Slowly he manages to pry his eye-lids open and what he sees next takes his breath away. Martin is poised over him, gazing at him adoringly, hand never ceasing to caress his skin.

A sudden tremble travels through Danny’s body as he feels that hand inching lower and lower, dipping deeper under the blankets, until it reaches his cock, which has decided to take notice of the proceedings going on.

Danny languorously arches his back as Martin lazily circles the head of his cock with his fingertip. He lifts his right arm, slides it around Martin’s neck and nudges him closer, wanting to give him a proper good morning kiss, morning breath be damned. Martin doesn’t hesitate to comply and lowers his entire upper body, until he’s lying on top of Danny’s chest.

Slowly Martin bumps his nose against Danny’s, sneaking out his tongue and licking Danny’s lips. It doesn’t take long for Danny to catch up with the programme as he parts his lips and sucks Martin’s tongue inside his mouth. Their kisses slow and heated. No part of their joined mouths are left undiscovered.

By the time they break free, Danny’s already panting and arching into Martin’s touch. But this time it isn’t enough. He wants more than just touch. He wants to feel Martin next to him, under him, over him, in him.

Slowly rubbing his morning stubble against Martin’s cheek, he brings his mouth close to Martin’s ear.

“I want you inside me,” he whispers huskily.

In a heartbeat the heat of Martin’s body is gone and all Danny’s left with is a handful of blanket.

“Martin?” Danny asks, trying to think coherently through his arousal.

As he’s finally able to focus again, he sees Martin standing next to the bed, fidgeting like a 6 year old who did something wrong. Slowly Danny extends his hands towards him, gesturing for Martin to take it, which Martin does after hesitating briefly.

“Come back to bed and tell me what’s wrong,” Danny says.

Martin slowly crawls back into the bed, lying down rigidly next to Danny, never releasing his hand.

“I’m sorry,” he says, “It’s just when you said that last thing about-- you know--” he trails off.

Never one for shyness, Danny finishes his sentence, “--about wanting you inside of me?”

“Yeah,” Martin replies, blushing furiously, “That. When you said it I kind of freaked out because I've never-- you know,” he adds, releasing Danny’s hand and making a vaguely obscene hand gesture to emphasize his point.

“That’s okay, we don’t have to do anything like that yet. I can wait and there’s plenty of other interesting stuff we can try out anyway,” Danny says, smiling mischievously.

“No,” Martin tentatively starts, “I mean, I—I—I do want to try, but I just don’t know all the technicalities of the entire-uhm-oh God, I’m sorry,” he adds, covering his eyes in an embarrassed gesture.

“Hey, none of that. I promise we’ll go slow but it’s really not that difficult,” Danny says, leaning over and gently removing Martin’s hand so he can look him in the eye, “Okay?”

“Okay,” Martin replies.

“All right,” Danny says, shooting into action by suddenly lunging over Martin’s form and reaching for the drawer of the nightstand, “First things first, we’re going to need lube and a condom.”

After rummaging in the nightstand for a moment, Danny flops back down on the bed, carrying the right supplies.

“Okay, now come here,” Danny huskily says and apparently Martin is back with the programme again, because before he knows it Martin’s tongue plunges back into his mouth and his hands start mapping each inch of Danny’s skin. It only takes a few seconds for Danny’s cock to become hard again and he feels Martin’s answering erection nudging him in the thigh.

Slowly arching his back and pushing his erection into Martin’s pelvic bone, Danny reluctantly breaks the kiss and whispers, “God, Martin, I want you to take me.”

That’s all it takes for Martin to shoot into action as he reaches for the lube with shaky hands. Fumbling with the lid, Danny suddenly catches his hands in his.

“You don’t have to, you know,” he says, looking Martin straight in the eye.

“I do have to, because I want to fuck you so badly,” Martin huskily whispers back.

And _ohmygod_ , if Danny thought that Martin was sexy before, he’s about ready to explode just from hearing Martin say the word _fuck_.

“Then do it, just take the lube and use enough to stretch me open, one finger at a time,” Danny says, flipping over onto his stomach, “It’ll be easier like this for the first time. The next time we can try it face to face.”

~*~

It’s right then, at that moment, with Martin’s lubed up fingers iches away from Danny’s ass that Martin realises that Danny said _the next time_. And somehow just the thought of there being a next time makes him feel happier than he’s felt in a very long time.

It doesn’t take Martin very long to get the hang of sliding finger by finger passed the tight ring of muscles, slowly loosening them up, while occasionally rubbing across Danny’s prostate. Right up until Danny can’t take it anymore and calls out his name, panting heavily, telling him that he’s ready for more.

Martin’s never been a big fan of procrastination so the next thing he knows, he’s putting on the condom, pulling Danny up to his knees and shoving his cock deep inside Danny’s ass, meeting almost no resistance. Tentatively, he starts rocking his pelvis, amazed by the tight heat surrounding him.

“Más,” Danny breathes.

One Spanish word is all Martin really needs to take action and he starts thrusting faster and faster. And _ohgod_ , this is it. This is what he’s been missing every time he was with a woman. The steady and rough pushing back and forth from a hard male body. A slick sweaty hand grasping his hip, urging him on to go even faster. Guiding his own hand around to grasp Danny’s hard cock, sliding it up and down to the rhythm that is set.

And this isn’t going to take too long anymore, because Martin already feels the heat rising to his flushed face. So he picks up the pace and slams into Danny’s tight ass over and over again. A brief moment when all the tension coils up in his belly, Danny’s muscles clenching around his cock and then he’s coming. He vaguely feels wetness covering his fingers and he’s suddenly ridiculously proud that he did this. He made Danny come.

“Jeezes, Danny,” Martin says, still panting heavily after he pulls out. He quickly gets rid of the condom and plops down next to Danny.

Danny is bonelessly sprawled out on the bed and his face is right next to Martin’s now. A smirk slowly settles on his lips.

“You like?” he asks.

“Like? Like doesn’t even begin to describe it.”

“Good. And I promise you that it feels just as good from the receiving side,” Danny says, smiling again.

Martin suddenly realises that he has no problem whatsoever with the idea of Danny doing to him what he just did to Danny. If bottoming feels even half a good as topping, he’s more than okay with it. Happily spent, Martin inches a little closer and gently kisses Danny on the mouth, before resting his head on Danny’s chest, content to listen to the beat of his heart.

Silence descends over the room for a while, the only sound being their joined breathing and the soft rustle of the sheet every time Danny moves his hand to gently rub Martin’s side.

But Martin knows this calm is only temporarily, because they can’t put off the inevitable for much longer. They need to go to Sam this morning. The thought of her not knowing about this and thinking that everything is still great between them is almost unbearable now. He realises that what he feels for Sam is not the kind of love one has for the woman he’s about to marry. It never was.

He never felt anything as strong for Sam as he feels for Danny now. This encompassing warmth that is threatening to suffocate his heart _-in a good way-_ is something Sam never inspired in him. Danny opened up his world and with that he found himself a place in Martin’s life and Martin never wants to lose that sense of utter completion he has found.

“I want to go see Sam this morning,” he says, breaking the easy silence.

“I know,” Danny quietly says.

No objections, no arguments why they shouldn’t. Just a heartfelt agreement, because Martin knows that Danny feels guilty too. Sam might be his fiancée, but Danny is Sam’s friend and colleague. To make matters even worse is the absolute knowledge that without Sam, they never would have met and Martin’s life would have still been an empty mix of work and pending marriage to someone he didn’t love.

~*~

Danny knew this was coming, but he can’t help tensing up. He’s so not looking forward to the part of the day where he goes to his friend’s home to basically tell her he fell in love with her fiancée and now said fiancée is breaking off their engagement because he wants to be with him. No, so not looking forward to that. He wishes they could just fast forward to the end of the day already. But if wishes were dollars he’d be a very rich man by now.

There’s no use in wasting more time, so he gently nudges Martin’s side.

“Well, if we want to get there before noon, we have to get ready now,” he says.

Martin buries his face in Danny’s chest and Danny can just hear a muffled reply.

“Do we have to?”

“Yes,” Danny sighs, “We really really do.”

Apparently that’s enough to get Martin moving and Danny watches him for a moment when he silently pads over to the bathroom, before pushing himself up and walking into the kitchen to go and make some coffee.

Breakfast is a quiet affair and before they know it, they’re in Danny’s car, making their way to Sam’s apartment. It doesn’t escape Danny’s attention that the closer they get, the quieter Martin gets. It’s the silence that scares Danny the most. He knows Martin. He knows the man can brood like no other and he also knows he’s very good at convincing himself that he’s making the right decision.

So what if, right now, Martin is thinking that all this was a mistake? What if he’s thinking of ways to let Danny down easily because he’s somehow convinced himself that last night and this morning were just pre-wedding jitters and it’s better to just go ahead with the marriage. What if he’s contemplating about how much it’ll hurt his parents if he doesn’t go through with the marriage and how he’ll have to tell them that he’s attracted to a man instead.

So many what if’s and they all scare Danny more than he’s willing to admit. He’s in love with Martin and losing him right now would hurt more than being shot by some idiot with a gun, a pain he knows all too well from experience.

He glances over at Martin, who looks back at him and sends him a small smile. And Danny supposes it’s better then nothing, so he lets it go for the moment. No use in fretting over something that might never happen.

Ten minutes later they are standing at Sam’s doorstep, reluctant to ring the bell.

“Oh God, Danny-- what are we doing?” Martin nervously asks.

“The right thing,” Danny says, before grabbing Martin’s hand and squeezing it tightly.

“Okay, you’re right. You’re right. Listen, I’d like to get the chance to talk to Sam personally for a few moments. Would you mind waiting outside her apartment for a while?” Martin asks.

Danny had anticipated this. He’d seen the look in Martin’s eyes and he understands why he feels the need to talk to Sam alone first. But it does nothing to ease his earlier fears as they all come rushing back again. What if Sam somehow manages to talk Martin into staying with her? Refusing to give in to paranoia, he squeezes Martin’s hand again and lets go of him.

“Sure,” he says with belied confidence, “Take all the time you need.”

“Thanks,” Martin gratefully replies, before turning around and pressing the bell.

Danny vaguely hears Sam responding to the call and then the door opens and they’re walking up the stairs to the third floor apartment.

~*~

Martin’s nervous as hell by the time they reach Sam’s door, but he knows there’s no turning back now and somehow the thought of Danny being there to back him up, gives him enough strength to gently knock on her door.

And then Sam’s there. Standing right in front of him, still lightly leaning on a crutch, hair all mussed up as if she was still in bed, which she probably was.

“Marty! I had no idea you were coming. If I had known, I had--,” she trails off when she finally notices Danny, “Danny? What are you doing here? Why--“

Martin cringes when he catches her honest befuddled look. She looks a little lost as if she realises that something is wrong, but she hasn’t a clue what it is.

“Is Jack okay? Or Viv? What is going on?” she starts again.

“Sam,” Martin interrupts her, “Can I come in? I need to talk to you.”

“Of course you can come in,” she says as she steps aside and Martin passes her.

“Uhm, I’m not coming in yet Sam,” Danny says, shifting awkwardly.

“What do you mean? Why not?” Sam asks confused.

“Well--“ Danny starts.

By now, Danny’s nervously bouncing on his heels, and Martin can’t bear it any longer.

“Because I need to talk to you in private for a moment,” he says, earning him a grateful look from Danny.

“O--okay,” Sam says and closes the door again.

Now it’s just him and Sam, and Martin wishes for the earth to swallow him right now, because he cannot do this. How can he do this? Maybe he was wrong? Maybe Sam is the one and Danny’s just a last fling. What if he’s making the biggest mistake of his life here.

But then Sam invades his personal space by reaching up and kissing him gently on the lips and he knows. It’s a good kiss. A solid kiss. A dependable kiss. But even the worst kiss from Danny makes his insides explode with the magnitude of an atomic bomb. The kiss he’s sharing with Sam doesn’t even make a blip on the Richter scale.

So he gently grabs her arms and pushes her away and somehow that gesture is enough to warn her that something’s wrong.

“Martin? What’s going on?” she hesitantly asks.

“I can’t do this Sam,” Martin quietly says, still holding on to her upper arms.

“Can’t do what?”

“This,” Martin says, letting go of her and gesturing to the space between them, “I can’t do _us_ anymore.”

Taking a few steps back, Sam starts pacing in front of him, firmly holding on to the crutch.

“What are you talking about? We’re getting married,” she frantically says.

“No, we’re not Sam. I can’t be honest with myself and still marry you. I don’t love you enough to spend an entire life with you. I’m sorry,” Martin shakily brings out.

Sam has stopped now and is staring at him with a strange intensity.

“You’ve met someone else,” she says as if stating the obvious.

“Sam--“

“No, no you lying bastard. That’s the real reason why you’re breaking up with me, isn’t it? You’ve got someone else.”

“It’s not what you think--,” Martin says, slowly rubbing his hands over his face. This is not at all going the way he had imagined it, “--I never set out to meet anyone or-- I just --it just happened.”

“Oh, well,” Sam says with venom in her voice, hobbling through her living room, “That’s okay then. All is right with the world and we’ll all just forgive poor misguided Martin Fitzgerald, because it’s not his fault. No-- it just happened.”

Martin closes his eyes. He deserves this. He deserves every word, every gesture and every bit of sarcasm, hurt and anger. That doesn’t mean it doesn’t ache though. Guilt is threatening to consume him and every time it almost manages to take the upper hand, he thinks of Danny. Danny’s eyes when he kissed him for the first time last night. Danny’s affectionate smiles when they were dancing. Danny’s hands mapping his body, worshipping every patch of skin. Just Danny. 

“So, who is it?” Sam’s hard voice cuts through his thoughts and manages to disrupt a vivid image of Danny’s mouth.

“Sam--“

“No, you son of a bitch. I have a right to know who she is if you’re leaving me for her,” she spits out.

It’s then that Danny must have decided he’d heard enough as the door opens and he steps inside. Martin can’t help but look at him, searching his face for a sign of something more, although he’s not certain what, and what he sees steals his breath away. Danny’s eyes are moist with unshed tears, radiating pain and enormous guilt. After a second Danny turns his head slowly and looks straight at a startled Sam.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, “God Sam, I’m so sorry. Please don’t blame him. It just happened.”

Sam just stares at Danny dumbfounded for a moment, before the light slowly starts to dawn.

“It just happened?” she repeats, looking back at Martin only to shift her gaze back to Danny.

“Oh, oh … this is rich. This is-- oh …perfect. I introduce my _supposedly straight_ fiancée to one of my _not so supposedly straight_ best friends and it just happened? Oh, yeah. Perfect,” Sam says before bursting out in hysterical laughter.

“Sam, I don’t know what to say. We just-- we just fell in love,” Martin says.

“Oh, so you’re in love now? You’re in love with Danny Taylor? Danny, who can’t even manage to stay in a relationship for one week? Danny, a man? And you honestly believes he loves you back? What did you tell him Danny?” Sam asks, focusing her attention on Danny now, with the intention to hurt, “Did you tell him that the last guy you fucked gave up on you after about two weeks of you ignoring him? Did you tell him it’s all about the thrill of conquer and after the novelty wears off you’ll dump his sorry ass?”

~*~

Danny knows he must be as white as a sheet by now, as he’s standing there, taking each and every jab Sam is throwing at him. Wanting to give her that kind of release, knowing that she’s pissed off and incredibly hurt by their actions.

“Come on Marty,” she says, turning back to Martin, “Wake up and smell the roses. I admit, he looks good and he can be very charming, but this guy is only after one thing and it isn’t your heart.”

And that’s it. Right there. That last line is enough to make Danny spin on his heels and practically run out of the door. He sprints down the stairs until he’s finally standing outside again, taking deep cleansing breaths.

“Well, that went well,” he says to no one in particular, before he releases the tension with a desperate sounding chuckle.

~*~

“Well, it seems that poor Danny can’t handle the truth,” Sam says a few seconds after Danny fled the apartment.

Martin feels like he’s being torn in two. He wants nothing more than to go after Danny to see if he’s all right, but some strange sense of duty and guilt keeps him grounded and focused on Sam.

Sam, who is doing her utter best to keep the tears at bay. And Martin can’t watch this anymore so he closes his eyes for a beat. Oh God, when did his life start to resemble a soap opera?

When Sam clears her throat, Martin opens his eyes again only to be confronted by a very composed Sam who is standing right in front of him.

“So, what’s it going to be? You staying or leaving?” she quietly asks, wiping away a tear that somehow got passed her tightly reigned in control.

She looks so beautiful, just standing there, waiting for his answer. For a moment he’s tempted to say _‘yes, I’ll stay’_ , but then Danny’s haunted eyes appear in his mind’s eye again and he knows he can’t do it. He needs to take the chance on having something he’s never had before. He needs to take the risk of ending up with a broken heart somewhere down the line. He needs. He wants. He craves. He loves.

So he gently cups Sam’s face in his hands and kisses her softly on the lips, before focusing on her eyes again.

“I’m sorry Sam. I’m so incredibly sorry. Please believe me that I never set out for this. It just--“

“It just happened. Yeah, you already said that,” Sam interrupts him, lips quirking up in a small smile.

It’s at seeing her smile that Martin knows that she’ll be all right again. It’ll take time, but in the end she’ll realise that Martin as a husband isn’t what she needs either.

“I have to go,” he says, letting go of her.

“I know,” she says, “You really love him, don’t you?”

“All I know is that when I’m with him everything just feels right. So, I suppose the answer to your question is _yes_ ,” he says.

“I hate you for doing this to me Martin and I’m not sure if I’ll ever be able to forgive you, or Danny for that matter,” Sam softly says, “So I’d like you to leave now.”

“I understand,” Martin replies, because really-- what more is there to be said?

“Bye Sam,” he says, before turning around and walking out the door, leaving a distraught Sam behind. Not knowing if he’ll ever see and talk to her again. And he might not miss Sam as a lover, but he knows he’ll miss her as a friend and he can’t help but hope that she’ll wake up someday, ready to move on and that she’ll call both of them to tell them they’re forgiven.

~*~

It feels like an eternity has passed before Martin finally emerges from Sam’s building and crosses the street to where Danny is leaning against the car, waiting for him. For a while there, Danny had been tempted to just get into the car and drive away, leaving Martin with Sam. They’d all be better off that way. But then he thought of last night and how perfect it was and he couldn’t bring himself to let go just yet.

So, that’s why he’s still waiting, casually leaning against the car, body taut with tension and uncertainty. And if Martin’s about to tell him that he changed his mind he might just punch him in the face.

Somehow Martin must have seen the anxiety on his face because before he knows it, he’s enveloped in a bone-crushing reassuring hug. Danny is so relieved that he feels like crying, but he doesn’t. Instead he pulls back a bit and starts planting desperate little kisses all over Martin’s face.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” Martin keeps repeating over and over again.

That finally gets Danny’s attention and he stops his tender ministrations to look Martin in the eye.

“Sorry for what?” he gently asks.

“That you had to hear those horrible words from Sam.”

“Well, I can’t blame her. She was partially right. I have a pretty bad record when it comes to relationships and I can see how that might work against me. But it’s different with you. You have to know that,” Danny quietly says, focusing on Martin’s eyes.

“I know,” Martin reassures him.

“Next to that,” Danny continues, “She has every right to scream at me. I’m her friend and colleague and I violated her trust. I will need to resign, you know. Or at least ask Jack for a transfer of some kind. There’s no way I can keep working at the same office as her. One of us has to leave and I think in this case we can both agree it has to be me.”

“Yeah, I know that too,” Martin agrees, “We’ll figure something out.”

“You know, it’s good she yelled at me. She was hurting and she needed an outlet for her anger. It might have actually helped her in some way,” Danny says, knowing that he’s only trying to soothe his own guilt.

“Yeah, but still-- I’m sorry for getting you into this.”

“I’m not,” Danny fiercely says, grabbing Martin a little tighter, “I’m not sorry Martin. I’m sorry of a lot of things I’ve done in my life. And not in the least of hurting Sam like that, but I’ll never be sorry for wanting you. For falling in love with you.”

There. He said it. Now it’s up to Martin. The ball’s in his court now. Last night and this morning he shared his body and mind with Martin. And now he shared a simple truth. And he prays to God that Martin can handle that truth.

“Love?” Martin hesitantly asks.

“Yes, love,” Danny repeats.

Without warning Martin grabs the back of Danny’s head and tugs him closer until their foreheads touch and their lips are inches apart.

“Te amo,” he says, before briefly pressing his lips to Danny’s. 

“I thought you didn’t speak Spanish?” Danny says, smiling like a lunatic.

“I don’t,” Martin replies, blushing furiously, “But I watch day-time television once in a while and they air a lot of Spanish soaps, so--.”

“Spanish soaps?” Danny incredulously asks.

“Yeah,” Martin huffs.

And then Danny’s laughing out loud, the clear sound carrying through the silent street.

“Hey,” Martin indignantly says, swatting Danny’s arm in the process, “Don’t mock me. I just told you I’m in love with you here and all you can do is focus on the fact that I watch Spanish soaps once in a while?”

Finally getting his laughter under control, Danny fixes his gaze back on Martin’s face.

“Dance with me?” he softly asks.

“What? Here?” Martin asks.

“Yeah, here.”

“But, we’re in the middle of the street,” Martin hesitantly says.

“Yeah, so? There’s no one around. Sam’s apartment looks out to the other side of the block, so she can’t see us. Dance with me,” Danny repeats, softly persuading Martin by moulding their bodies together until they’re standing in a dance position.

“Ah, why the hell not,” Martin finally gives in.

Those are the words Danny needs to hear before gently nudging Martin’s left foot in the proper position and starting the dance. It’s blissfully quiet for a few moments, before Martin suddenly starts talking again.

“Oh, hey, in all this mess I forgot to tell you. I sent my dad an email with a few of your ideas and propositions about the new community centre and he’s definitely intrigued by the possibilities of the idea. He wants to meet you as soon as possible to discuss some plans he’s come up with. I’ll go with you of course and maybe--“

That is about all Danny hears when he decides that talking really is overrated. He expresses that feeling exactly by pressing his lips to Martin’s mouth to effectively shut him up. And as Martin’s gently nibbling on his lower lip, his tongue soothing the sting of the bites, begging for entrance into Danny’s mouth it occurs to Danny that kissing is a lot like dancing.

It’s all about emotion and _-most of all-_ rhythm. Between the both of them they seem to have developed their very own unique rhythm. They’re dancing to a beat no one’s ever danced to before. And he’s in love with that beat, finding himself inexplicably drawn to the rhythm. The simple, but perfect rhythm of a catchphrase that’s stuck in his head, forming a continuously repeating loop:

Danny _and_ Martin.  
Danny _and_ Martin.  
Danny _and_ Martin.  
Danny _and_ Martin.  
…

**FIN**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **SPANISH - ENGLISH translation** :
> 
> 1) **Más** \- More.  
>  2) **Te amo** \- I love you.


End file.
